


Too Much Love Will Kill You

by red_special_specialist



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bi Roger Taylor, Cheating, Coming Out, Drinking, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunken Kissing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Gay Brian May, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_special_specialist/pseuds/red_special_specialist
Summary: "Well, this is a surprise!" Freddie said cheerfully, "How do you two know each other?"Brian tensed, but his voice remained calm, "We met last night at a pub, actually.""Yeah," Roger said nonchalantly, as he picked at the loose string on his jacket, "Had a nice chat, and then we gave each other blowies in the men's loo."or,The one where Roger has to join a band after loosing a bet, and ends up falling for their guitarist.





	1. Roger

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic in the Queen fandom. I'd really enjoy some feedback if you have the time. Also, just a warning, but I am American, and I will be attempting to write this from the view point of people who live in England. I've never been out of my country, and all my knowledge is from what I researched on the internet. So, if I get something wrong I apologize.

_‘Fucking hell, I can see my breath.’_

That was the first thought Roger Taylor had the moment he stepped through those large double doors and out into the afternoon sun. The air was chilly, not as chilly as it would be in the next couple of months, but Roger could see the signs of autumn creeping in, as the skies grew darker and the wind started to pick up. There would be a storm soon; Roger was sure of it.

With a huff, He made his way quickly to the bus station, hoping to beat the rain. He sat in silence, watching the people go by, his soft blond hair gently swayed in front of his face, as he wrapped himself tighter in his leather jacket. He hadn’t thought of bringing a warmer jacket earlier that day, but now he really wished that he had.

Time passed slowly, and Roger kept looking at the time on his phone every few minutes. Now, was it four-fifteen, or four-thirty when the bus would arrive? Roger had trouble remembering. It had only been his third week living in the bloody city, and he really hoped he didn’t miss it.

It wasn’t like Roger to be so unsure, but everything was new for him. He moved a long way from his family in Truro to try to be something in London. Something or someone worth talking about. He hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to adjust. With just a couple hundred pounds in his pocket, he searched high and low for the perfect flat, but settled on rooming with a guy he’d met one evening at a night club. It was a bit of a risk, but the boy, who was a couple years older than himself, had been looking for a flatmate. His sparkling personality, how he talked and carried himself, had fascinated Roger. It wasn’t like he had much of an option, being fresh off the boat and all. What could he have possibly had to lose? Besides, it all seemed to work out in the end.

Roger looked at his phone again just as the bus made its way around the corner. A big red blob that stood out in a sea of grey. He waited patiently until it stopped and then climbed aboard. He made his way to an empty seat in the back, scooting close to the window, sticking his forehead on the glass. The bus moved out of the station, and Roger closed his eyes as he felt the gentle vibrations of the engine.

A few minutes later he opened his eyes when he began to hear thunder. Rain drops hit the window, small at first, but then became a down pour. He watched carefully as he passed people rushing to get somewhere dry. Running into shops that had beautiful and expensive things in the window displays. Perfectly tailored suits and shined shoes glared at him through the glass, separating him and them by a thin layer of hope. The hope that maybe one day he’d be able to afford to look that good.

It wasn’t that he was vain. In fact, he could go to any second-hand shop, and find an outfit that made him look better than any posh celebrity you’d see in magazines. In the end it was what it represented. The respect. The idea that he was something better than what he was now.

The rain eased up when Roger got to his spot. He pulled his jacket to cover his head, and he walked the three blocks to his flat. It was a small two bedroom flat, that had a unique charm to it. His flatmate had gotten all their furniture from different thrift stores. They were cheap, tacky, and nothing matched. Roger loved it.

The ground floor was cold and damp as he stepped through the doors. The air was musky, and the draft was almost unbearable after having been out in the rain. He made his way up the six flights of stairs, his usual trek, due to the fact the lift was out of order. It wasn't like he minded the exercise, but Roger had to tell someone about the lift. It had apparently been broken for six months.

Finally, Roger reached his floor, and he was happy to be home. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it, setting his stuff inside. He made a b-line for the fridge, opening it to see what he could snack on, when he noticed a little note next to the fridge. It was a small sticky note with glittery ink writing scribbled onto it. Roger assumed it was from his flatmate, Freddie.

_Roger. Went to the store. Be back soon. -Fred_

Roger stared at the note, lost in thought, until a loud clap of thunder pulled him into focus. Alright then, he was at the store. _‘With what money?’_ Roger asked himself, setting the note down back on the counter. He grabbed a bowl of grapes and a coke, and then headed to his room.

It was small, his room, but Roger made it feel like home. It had a full-sized bed, a small desk, and a vanity dresser that was left over from Freddie’s last flatmate. It was bland, of course, but Roger saw that as a blank canvas. He filled the room with all sorts of colors, such as multicolored paisley sheets for his bed, and then tie-dyed sheets to hang up over his windows so the light wouldn’t be in his eyes when tried to sleep. He had a bright blue shag rug in the middle of his floor, and a bead curtain he made himself, hanging up in the doorway. He had little knickknacks, and trinkets littered on the tops of his dresser and desk. Concert memorabilia, and posters covered his walls. Pictures of the greats like Hendrix, Lennon, Bowie, and Dylan stared down at him like gods. At the foot of his bed sat two beanbag chairs, and on his nightstand was a lava lamp. He had his kit in the closet, and his acoustic guitar propped up in the corner, and next to that sat an old record player. It was very late sixties/early seventies inspired. Roger always appreciated that time era of fashion and culture.

Roger stepped in, setting his bowl and drink on the nightstand. He then proceeded to the record player, which he had had since he was a child. He rummaged through the records until he landed on Abbey Road. The Beatles were a great inspiration of his. Music like theirs was what inspired him to play instruments. He was a fan of the classics. Roger remembered as a child, playing old vinyl records on this very record player, which used to belong to his father. Roger would sit and listen constantly, until finally Roger’s father just let him have it.

While other kids played outside, he stayed in listening. He loved music, and it wasn’t only classic rock that got his blood pumping. Roger often stayed up listening to the radio. Listening to the radio was like listening to an old friend, hearing stories he’d heard a thousand times, and then new ones that always seemed to surprise and delight him.

With a sigh, Roger made his way to his bed. He grabbed his bag and started to take out his homework for that day. He tried to concentrate while the rain started getting heavy again. Roger could hear it coming down onto the roof and splattering the window like bullets. He cuddled closer to the wall, trying to get comfortable. He let the music carry him as he picked up his pencil to write.

Roger stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon. After getting all his work done, he decided to do some studying before bed. However, it was starting to become increasingly difficult to stay still. He felt like he was on pins and needles. Roger sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He tried reading off his study guide, but the words seemed to just meld together. He had to keep going though, he was almost finished with the bloody thing.

_‘How many cells does the human body have? Easy, one trillion.’_ Roger flipped his cheat sheet over to confirm his answer.

Roger mentally cheered as he got the question right. He reached over to the bowl of grapes next to him and popped one in his mouth, his reward for getting the question right. He looked down at the next question.

_‘Which digestive organ sends the broken-down nutrients out to the body?’_ Roger was stumped with this one. Was it the large intestines? He flipped his sheet over to reveal it was the small intestines, _‘shit’_

Roger sighed, but still reached for another grape. It was hard for him to sit still or focus very long. The fact his quiz was tomorrow didn’t help either. Roger wasn’t all that good of a student in his youth. Always doing the bare minimum to pass. Even as a dental student, Roger didn’t put his heart into his work, and he hated the work load his professors pushed onto him. His attitude soon changed once he switched majors, turning himself into a model student, but tests always seemed to be a challenge for him. Despite that, he had one of the top grades in the class. Though if he was being truthful, there wasn’t much to do other than study. It wasn’t like he had friends to spend time with.

_‘You haven’t even been in London a month, and your crying and moping about like some sod_ ,’ he thought bitterly, pushing his book away from him in frustration. It was times like these when he missed home. He missed spending time with his mother, laughing about like a couple of cheeky school girls, gossiping and swapping stories about old times. he missed the little things, like the crinkles around her eyes when she laughed, or how she always smelled like peppermint, and honey scented shampoo. He also missed his sister, Clare, with the same mischievous glint in her eye that his mother swears she picked up from Roger. The way she always knew what he was thinking, like they both had some kind of sibling telepathy. It reminded Roger of something he would read in one of his sci-fi comics as a child.

He missed their little family activities, like baking. Even though Roger couldn’t cook for shit, he always enjoyed the company. His mother was always a wonderful cook. Her face would be beaming while covered in flour head to toe, and he and Clare would fight over who got to lick the spoon.  He missed going on family trips to the Truro River, soaking up the sun on the docks, feet dangling off the edge. He even missed being dragged on shopping trips with Clare, listening to her go on about gossip from school. How her love life was going, that sort of thing. Roger felt a pang in his heart. Perhaps he might ring one of them up, just to see how they were doing. It wasn’t like his family didn’t want to hear from him. Roger just didn’t want them to worry.

His mother was hesitant of him moving all the way to London. Roger had decided to move when he changed schools to finish his senior year. He was ecstatic about living in a flat of his own instead of at home. It was an exciting change for him, and he had to admit he enjoyed the freedom; however, In the weeks he’d been here, Roger realized it was scary moving from Cornwall to London. Roger had always loved it here. The city made him feel more alive, but he felt like a fish out of water. He knew no one here other than some classmates, and Freddie, and the occasional friends Freddie brought over.

Roger liked Freddie well enough, he was a nice guy and fun to be around. It was just hard for him to get along with Freddie’s friends, usually hiding in his room when they came over. He met a few like Mary and Jim, also Freddie’s classmate Tim who usually came over when they needed to work on group projects. Freddie would also not shut up about this new guy he just started dating, Josh. No, that wasn’t right. Could it have been George? Roger usually tuned him out since he talked about the guy 24/7. His cute new freshman boyfriend, it made Roger want to laugh. It wasn’t a relationship that was going to last long. It sounded harsh, but it was the truth. Roger wasn't trying to be a dick, and had nothing against any of them personally, but he felt so out of place. It was like he was on the outside looking in; like he was intruding or something. Maybe he was being too sensitive, but that’s how he felt. He had Freddie though, and that was enough. It had to be. None of his old friends from Truro would speak to him, not after what happened. 

Roger sighed as he went to grab another grape only to feel an empty bowl. With a groan he pulled himself up off the bed, his legs sore from being in the same position for hours. Roger stepped out of his room only to be met with Freddie lounging on the couch, nude, with his art friend Tim sitting across from him, sketching away on a drawing pad.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” Roger questioned, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Oh, Roger dear, how nice of you to join us. I thought you’d be locked away in there all night,” Freddie said cheerfully, like he’s been waiting for him.

“You know I sit on that couch, Fred,” was all Roger could say, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks, “Why are you naked anyway?”

“Oh, yes well you see, Tim here,” he pointed to the boy who was still scribbling away, not paying them any mind, “and I are drawing nude portraits of each other. It’s an assignment for class, you see. I didn’t mean to surprise you, but look at you blush, dear. I know it must be hard since I’m so divine, but please try to control yourself” Freddie winked, grinning wickedly ear to ear.

Roger smiled gleefully, happy to have someone to talk to, “I’ll try to contain myself.”

“You should get nude too, and I’ll draw you. Oh, or pose with me! How beautiful we’d both look perched up here together like a Michelangelo painting.”

“I think I’ll pass. I just came out here to get more grapes.”

 Freddie let out a huff and lifted his head to look at Roger, causing his dark shaggy hair to fall into his eyes, “Oh boo, you’re no fun,” he pouted, “Enjoy your grapes.”

Tim grunted, clearly annoyed, “Fred, stop moving. I’m almost finished, don’t fuck me up now.”

“So bossy,” Freddie grumbled, going back to his position.

Roger walked up behind Tim, and peered over his shoulder, “That’s beautiful,” he said, mesmerized at how well Tim drew Freddie’s sharp features. It was like something he’d see in a museum.

Tim glanced up at Roger and gave him a genuine smile, “Thank you. I’d be finished if Freddie would stop moving.”

“Maybe it’s not me messing you up, dear. We should take a break,” Freddie suggested.

Tim shushed him, “Just give me fifteen more minutes.”

Roger looked over to where another drawing pad laid on the end table. That must have been Freddie’s. Roger had to admit it was wonderful. It was of Tim, naked with a blanket covering up his privates. He looked soulful, a cigarette hung out of his mouth as his eyes were glancing towards the floor. They were both very talented, and it was a nice thing to learn about Freddie. Roger had been here for three weeks and he felt like he knew nothing about the guy.

“This is good, Fred. Really good,” he finally said, putting the drawing back.

“Well thank you, darling, but that’s not my best work.”

Roger didn’t know if he was being humble, but if this was just a normal sketch then Freddie must have been truly talented. Roger took a seat at the kitchen table and watched them while he ate his new bowl of grapes. Finally, it seemed Tim had finished, and he sat his drawing down as Freddie started to get dressed. They both joined him at the table.

“Well, that was fun. Next time, Roger, do join us, dear. I hate that you feel confined to that room all the time. We don’t bite you know,” Freddie said while he whipped out his phone.

“I know that,” Roger said a little embarrassed, “I just feel a little out of place.”

“Out of place? Darling, you don’t have to feel out of place! Just ask and we’ll hang out, whatever you like. Maybe accompany me when I go shopping, or band practice. The guys would love to meet you.”

Oh right, Freddie was in a band. Roger had almost forgotten. It was one of the first things Freddie brought up when Roger came to look at the flat. He’d never met Freddie’s band mates before. All he knew was that there was a guitarist named Brian, and bass players and drummers that were being switched out constantly. It seemed to distress Freddie that they couldn’t keep the same line up for more than a week.

“Oh, look at this,” Freddie said, absolutely glowing, “John texted me. ‘Saw this patch of daffodils outside my school, and they reminded me of how bright and sweet you are. Thinking of you, love.’ What an angel of a boyfriend I have.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he snatched a grape from the bowl before Roger had time to protest, “Yes, how sweet.”

_‘John was his name’_ , Roger thought. John the amazing electronic engineer student. John the freshman with the cute butt and doe like eyes. Freddie’s words, not his. At this point Roger knew so much about John it was weird Roger didn’t even know what he looked like.

“Oh shit,” Freddie cursed suddenly, pulling Roger from his thoughts. He was staring at his phone.

“What is it, Fred?”

The look on Freddie’s face was a mixture of shock and blind rage, “Our drummer just quit!”

“Another one quit?” Tim said, not looking up from his own phone, “That’s like what? The sixth? Seventh?”

“The fourth, Tim, thank you,” Freddie was seething, “He says he can’t play drums anymore, because he got in an ‘accident’ which resulted in both his hands being broken!”

“Now, that’s odd. How can you text with two broken hands?” Tim wondered aloud, taking another grape from Roger’s bowl.

“Oh, I’m going to call that prick,” Freddie said as he furiously dialed and put his phone up to his ear. A few moments later Freddie let out a growl and tossed his phone on the table, “that fucker blocked my number!”

Roger felt uncomfortable by Freddie’s outburst. He hadn’t seen him this angry before. Ever since Roger had met Freddie, he’d been this happy guy. He tried to think of a way to calm the situation, “Maybe it was for the best? He didn’t seem like that great of a guy anyway.”

“Yes, well he was the best drummer we had. Also, I’m sick of this. We can’t book gigs, because we have people in and out of this band before we can properly practice,” Freddie groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Tim patted his friend on the back, “Cheer up, mate. Everything will work itself out.”

“Yeah, you’ll think of something,” Roger added, just to be saying something. He truly didn’t know how to help the situation. Roger wasn’t good with comforting people.

Freddie lifted his head suddenly, like he had just gotten an idea. He shifted his attention to Roger, “Roger, wait a minute. Don’t you play the drums?”

Roger shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “Well yeah, but, Fred-”

“You could be our drummer. Oh, it would be perfect! You could drum for us, and you won’t feel so out of place anymore. It’s a win win.”

Nope, this was not happening, he had to shut this down now. It was too soon. _‘Won’t it always be too soon?’_ he thought to himself, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Roger admitted.

“Why not? How bad can you be?”

“It’s not that. It’s just I really need to focus on school work, and I’m looking for a job right now, so maybe being in a band isn’t the best thing for me right now, Fred.”

“C’mon, Rog, I’ll give you anything you want. Pretty please!” Freddie persisted.

“The answer is still no, Freddie.”

Freddie’s face fell, and he sighed, “I guess I’ll text Brian and John that we’re going to have to start looking for a new drummer.”

Roger gave Freddie a look, “Wait, John? Like, your boyfriend John?”

“Yes, dear. John plays bass for my band. That’s how we met, when he auditioned. Why, what’s wrong with that?”

Roger took a while to answer. He didn’t want to insult Freddie, but dating your bandmate was a bad idea. Roger should know, “It’s just… Isn’t dating your bass player a conflict of interest?”

Freddie and Tim both eyed him quizzically, “No, why would it?” Freddie finally asked.

Oh, now he’s done it. So much for not stepping on anyone’s toes. “It’s just,” Roger tried gently, “Won’t it hurt the band when you break up?”

Freddie scoffs, clearly taken aback by what Roger just said, “What? Want to run that by me again?”

“It’s just if you break up-”

“When”

“What?” Roger was caught off guard.

“You said ‘when’ you break up, not ‘if’. Roger, what are you trying to say? John and I aren’t going to make it?”

Roger stuttered as he tried to backpaddle, “No! That’s not what I mean. Well, I mean. It is a little unlikely, isn’t it? With the age difference, and being in a band can cause tension,” he was rambling at this point, but everything he said seemed to just upset Freddie more. Roger was acting like a cunt, he knew that, but it was hard to stop talking when you’ve started, wasn’t it?

 The room was awkward now. Roger had obviously hurt Freddie’s feelings, and Tim had stolen all his grapes, great. This was why he never came out of his room. Why did he even try to make new friends when he was doomed to fail miserably at every attempt?

Freddie was the first to speak up after a long silence. His voice was soft and filled with a deep sadness, “Well, I appreciate your input, Roger, I really do,” he patted Roger on the shoulder as he got up from the table.

“Wait, Fred,” Roger called out, standing up a little to forcefully almost knocking the chair backwards, “Don’t listen to me. I was born with my fucking foot in my mouth. I shouldn’t be saying nothing about your relationship, mate, I’m sorry.”

Freddie turned around and crossed his arms, “That was quite rude of you wasn’t it? It is how you feel though. I’d rather you be truthful with me than lie, Roger. That being said, I truly do love John. Even if we’ve only known each other for a week.”

“A week? You’ve only known each other for a bloody week?” Roger was exasperated, but he composed himself, “Either way, I wouldn’t take advice from me. I don’t even believe in it.”

“You don’t believe in it?” Freddie looked confused, like he didn’t know what Roger was getting on about. He searched Roger’s face, as if the answer would appear right on his forehead. It took a moment before it dawned on Freddie, “Love? You don’t believe in love?” when Roger didn’t answer, Freddie gasped, “Oh, that’s terrible! Roger, how can you not believe in love? You don’t believe in that one person who will be with you forever, through thick and thin, a soulmate? Are you serious?!”

“No, I don’t, and yes I am,” he said point blank, ignoring the look of utter despair on his flatmate’s face. Well, what else was he supposed to do? Lie? Everyone knows that the sentimental feeling you get when you’re with someone who maybe tolerates you, is just a knee-jerk reaction to the fact that you just don’t want to die alone. True unconditional love wasn't real, Roger knew that much. How naive Freddie must have been, and Roger felt bad for him. He really did.

“I’m sorry,” Roger finally said, “That’s just how I feel.”

Freddie instantly made his way over to Roger and wrapped him in a hug, Ignoring his friend’s protest.

“Uh, Fred, what are you doing?”

“Oh, Roger, don’t apologize. I’m sorry. Dear, I didn’t know you were romantically inept.”

“And socially inept, apparently,” Tim joined in.

“Oi, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Roger said suddenly.

“It all makes sense now. Staying cooped up in your room, except for when you go to class, and when you bring home your little one-night stands. Darling, you must feel so lonely,” he rested his cheek on the side of Roger’s head, feeling the smaller boy tense in his arms.

“Fred, stop,” Roger said in a warning tone. He knew Freddie meant well, but Roger wished he’d shut up and stay out of his business. They weren’t even friends, not really. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone.

Freddie ignored him, and continued petting his hair, “Who was it that shot Cupid’s arrow and broke your heart, Roger? Was it a boy? A girl? Why are you so closed off, and why don’t you want to talk about it?”

“Why do you _want_ to talk about it? No offense, but it’s none of your business, Freddie.”

“Is that why you won’t join the band? Because, you like keeping people at arm’s length?”

Roger had enough of this. He growled, ripping himself away from Freddie’s grasp, “This is absolute bollocks. I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re just trying to confuse me. That’s it, isn’t it? you’re trying to get back at me because I said your relationship will eventually fail. I’m right you know. Love isn’t real, and the more time you keep yourself wrapped up in this delusional fantasy of yours, the worse it’s going to be when you inevitably get your heart broken,” Roger spat. He was fuming. He had a bit of a temper, Roger will admit. He hated when people tried to make him do things he didn’t want to do. He regretted it though immediately, and expected Freddie to be angry, hurt, and confused by his outburst. Instead he was just met with bored eyes.

“Are you done with your little temper tantrum, dear?” Freddie rolled his eyes to show Roger that he wasn’t buying the angry, brooding, tough guy façade anymore, “Y’know, you’re not as intimidating as you think.”

“Well, you’re a lot more annoying than you think,” Roger shot back.

“Well, I think you’re just afraid to open up, because you think you’ll get hurt again” Freddie countered, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well, I think your little twenty-year-old boy toy is going to drop you when he figures out that he can’t handle being in a serious relationship. He’s too young to know what he wants.”

“That isn’t true! John happens to be very mature for his age.”

“Oh, please. It won’t last a month,” Roger retorted, as he sat back down in his chair.

Freddie huffed, crossing his arms, “Oh, yes and you’re the expert of love. Is that right? Sorry, Roger, but my relationship is stronger than you think. Maybe it’s too complex for you to understand.”

“Would you put money on it?”

“What?”

“I’m getting more grapes,” Tim interjected, clearly not wanting to be a part of what Freddie and Roger were about to do.

“Would you put money on it?” Roger said again, “Let’s say twenty pounds. One month. If you two survive a month, then I’ll say I was wrong, and I’ll pay up.”

“Absolutely not,” Freddie said incredulously.

“Scared, mate?”

“No, I’m not, but I’m also not going to bet money on my relationship.”

“Then you can bet something else,” Tim sat back down next to Roger, “Fred’s right. Betting money on your relationship is, well, it’s a bit of a dick move, isn’t it? Let’s say you bet something else, like maybe an agreement to attend a certain engagement that had been previously turned down by the latter party, that would be you, Roger. You know maybe that would be better than money.”

Freddie smiled, “Why, Tim, I think you’re on to something,” he eyed Roger up and down, “Alright, hotshot, a month. If I win, you have to audition for the band.”

“If you don’t have another drummer before then,” Roger said.

“Don’t worry, they won’t,” Tim said popping a grape into his mouth.

“So, what do I get? I must get something if I win, right?”

“Isn’t the satisfaction of being right reward enough?” Freddie asked.

“Sure, that’s all well and good, but I can’t use, wear, or flaunt around with that,” Roger paused as a terrifying grin appeared on his face, “I can with a jacket though. If I win, I want your jacket. The new one.”

Freddie was hesitant, “My jacket? But I just bought this. It took me three months to save up for it.”

“Well, if you don’t think it’s worth the risk,” Roger sighed, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

Freddie’s face hardened with determination, “My jacket then,” he confirmed, and then held out his hand to shake on it.

Roger clasped Freddie’s hand and they shook, “One month.”

“One month.”

Roger smirked, thinking he was playing it smart. Freshman were either too clingy, or they don’t commit. Either way, Roger knew he had nothing to worry about. There was an underlining guilt though, a feeling that gnawed at him. It kept telling him he was being an asshole, and that he shouldn’t be getting satisfaction from other peoples’ failed relationships. He quickly pushed those feelings down and thought about how great he’d look in that new jacket. He wasn’t Freddie’s friend, Roger didn’t even know him, not really. All that mattered now was one month, thirty days, and then he’d win the bet. Yes, Roger was certain he had nothing to worry about.

* * *

 

Time flew by after that night. A month had come and gone. September to October. The weather had gotten colder, and the plants were starting to die off or go dormant for the winter. Flowers wilted and leaves fell idly from their trees. It was a beautiful view, making London look festive for the holidays. The leaves gently littering the ground, one by one.

Roger watched them from his living room window, as he slipped on his leather jacket and red scarf. He had plans to go to the pub later, alone. He’d been in a loop lately, going from school to work to home. His new job at a little boho shop in the mall, was taking up all his time. He needed this, some time out away from his routine. Come this time tomorrow his schedule would be full completely. He sighed.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Freddie waltzed in with a bag of takeout, his boyfriend John Deacon close behind, “Hello hello, Roger dear. Don’t you look lovely this evening! You remember my boyfriend John, right?” Freddie said in a singsong voice as he laid the bag on the table.

“Hello again, Roger,” came a soft voice that was barely audible. John smiled shyly brushing his long, brunette hair out of his eyes.

John was a quiet guy, Roger realized. He was very shy and closed off from most people. It was a little funny really, how John still had trouble looking Roger in the eyes, usually looking down at the floor when he spoke.

“Hey,” was all Roger said, still staring out the window. He stayed like that for a moment, but then turned around to face Freddie and John, who were setting plates on the table, “Dinner date?” Roger asked, trying not to sound bitter.

 It had been a month of course, Freddie and John celebrated their one month last week, so he won the bet. However, as angry as Roger felt, he couldn’t deny that uneasy familiar feeling. Why was he so upset that his friend and flatmate, who had been nothing but nice to him, was in a loving relationship? Was Roger really that jaded? Perhaps he was lonely, and maybe he did distance himself from others to avoid getting hurt again. Roger shook his head, trying to silence that whining voice. _‘Fucking Freddie,’_ he thought.

“I guess you could call it that,” Freddie smiled, “Just dinner, and whatever we find on the telly. You’re more than welcome to join us, dear.”

Roger feigned a smile, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m actually meeting some mates of mine at the pub tonight.” Obviously, that was a lie, but Freddie didn’t need to know that. Roger refused to be the third wheel, or to stand here and have Freddie look at him like he was some wounded puppy.

“Well, alright. Have fun, dear.”

“I will,” Roger said, grabbing his wallet off the counter. No shame in leaving early right?

“Oh, and, Roger,” Freddie called out, stopping Roger in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Be sure not to drink too much. We have band rehearsal tomorrow,” Freddie grinned, causing Roger to roll his eyes and mumble whatever as he walked out the door.

_‘Time to get shitfaced then,’_ Roger thought as he headed to the bus station. Tonight, was going to be a fun night.


	2. Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. Thank you for leaving kudos and positive comments on this story. I promise the next chapter won't take as long. Some stuff came up recently, and I didn't have time to write. I'll update this story every one to two weeks. Thanks for reading!

Brian May wasn’t a fan of partying.

Scratch that, he wasn’t a fan of senseless partying, going to a party in celebration of nothing. Even if the celebration was having a couple pints with a few friends, relishing in each other’s company. That was all right. That was something he could handle. However, on a night like tonight, there was no celebration. He was out just to get drunk and forget. Yes, it was safe to say Brian was miserable. If he thought back to what started this chain of events, Brian would say it happened over the course of a few months.

It all started with his girlfriend, Chrissie, and her inability to leave well enough alone. She had wanted Brian to have dinner with her and her parents. Brian refused, and she wasn’t happy about it. They fought, and Brian had to get out. He could still see it so clear in his mind. Delivering blow after blow of verbal frustration and anger towards his girlfriend, spewing venomous words he didn’t mean, until he had enough and left her crying in the living room.

In retrospect, Brian knew he should have been kinder, but he was so miffed. The last thing he wanted was someone telling him what to do, and Chrissie sure knew how to push his buttons. It didn’t matter though, because he would go home tonight, and they’d make up. Then they’d go about their business until their next inevitable argument. Pretending that everything was ok when it really wasn’t.

Brian took another swig of his drink and wondered where he went wrong. He loved Chrissie, he really did. She challenged him in a way no woman had before. She used to be his favorite person to talk to, but recently he felt like nothing more than a nuisance to her. It was like he couldn’t do anything right. It made Brian question if they had peaked long ago in their relationship.

He thought back seven months earlier to when everything wasn’t as complicated. They first met at an animal rights rally. Chrissie was there, and she was holding up a poster that said, “My body is a temple, not a tomb.” Brian took to her immediately. She was so passionate about the cause, and Brian found it refreshing. Then when he found out they went to the same school, he would spend time with her there. He and Chrissie became quick friends after that, and soon they were a couple. On their five-month anniversary they moved in together. It seemed like the next logical step to Brian.  Unfortunately, that’s when their relationship soured.

Brian couldn’t blame Chrissie, not entirely. They both had trouble adjusting to living with each other. It started as small arguments here and there, eventually forming into full-fledged fights. One of them would go too far and say things they didn’t mean. That was where Brian was now. The argument had gotten too out of control, so Brian left.

Now he was sitting in a booth alone, at a pub he’d never been to. Brian sighed and looked down at his nails, his overgrown mass of curly hair falling over his face. He could sense wetness form in the comers of his eyes. How could he have acted so vicious, lashing out like that? Why did he have to push the people he loved the most away? Why was he so selfish? Sometimes, Brian wished he could just disappear.

He squinted up, trying not to let tears fall, carefully watching the light above him. The dim light hung over his head like the sword of Damocles, threatening to fall and smite him at any moment. He silently watched it sway back and forth while he downed the rest of his pint. He wondered if it was still a self-fulfilling prophesy if he willingly let the light fall on his head. These, or course, were just drunk musings, silly thoughts to pass the time. Brian knew the brackets holding up the lights were too secure to fall onto his head. However, that didn’t stop his mind from wishing it.

Suddenly, a loud noise released him from his self-loathing. He snapped his head to where a group of uni students sat. They were being rowdy, and disrespectful to the wait staff. Brian was embarrassed to say he knew some of the blokes at that table.

_Some of these arseholes are going to be doctors,’_ he thought bitterly.

Brian watched as a waitress walked by, and the group berated her.

“Hello, love. What say you and I spend some time together after your shift? I can stay here all night if you wish,” one boy said. His friends whooped in response.

The waitress ignored them, walking past as if they didn’t say a word to her.

Brian gave the woman a courteous smile as she walked past him, but was met with a glare. She must have thought he would try something too. Brian face burned with embarrassment. He didn’t even do anything, and he felt ashamed. He looked towards the doors and contemplated on just cutting his losses and going home when something caught his eye. Well, correction, _someone_ caught his eye.

A blond man walked through the entrance. He looked about Brian’s age. He was short, with long golden hair, and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a leather jacket, and a maroon scarf. His blue eyes shifted nervously, as he looked for a place to sit.

Brian felt a little bummed when the blond sat over at the bar. He watched the other boy sit and order. He smiled a little when the blond used his fingers as drumsticks, tapping on the counter while he waited for his drink. There was something about him, Brian noticed, that he really like. Though he couldn’t put his finger on what that might have been.

In the end, Brian decided to stay. Every so often, he would sneak a glance at the blond boy. Brian watched him chat with the other patrons at the bar. He desperately wanted to go over there and say hello, but it was as if something glued him to his seat. In his mind, he went over several ways he could start up a conversation, but they all made Brian feel like an idiot.

Minutes passed, and Brian grew more worried the blond would leave before he got to speak with him. It was mortifying, sitting there and watching like some creep. However, the alternative would be going up and saying something stupid. Then he thought, so what if he sounded stupid? Brian wanted to at least enjoy tonight, just a little. Even if that enjoyment was attempting, and probably failing, to make friends with this stranger. What was the worst that could happen?

Brian got up from his table and walked over to the bar where the blond boy was sitting. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

The blond who was drinking a pint of Guinness, didn’t even look up from his glass, “Tired of staring at me from all the way over there, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not dense, mate. I saw you when I walked in, and I know you’ve been watching me since I’ve been at the bar,” he pointed at the small mirror on the wall behind the bar to show a perfect view of where Brian was sitting in the reflection.

Brian was blushing furiously, “I- I’m sorry. I’m a little out of it tonight. I’m not really use to drinking this much, but that’s no excuse for staring. It’s just you looked more interesting than anyone else in this pub. You look like a bloke who could offer some stimulating conversation,” he rambled, getting redder as he spoke.

The blond finally looked up at Brian with a curious expression which then evaporated into a lazy smirk, “Well, I’ll try to stimulate you in the best way possible then,” he pointed to the bar stool next to him, “Sit.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

The blond rolled his eyes, “As you might have already figured out, I’ve been sitting here alone for an hour and a half. I really don’t think you’re intruding much. Now, have a seat.”

Brian sat down hesitantly, turning to the boy with a smile, “I’m Brian May,” he said holding out his hand.

The blond shook his hand, amusement shown all over his face, “Ok,” he said, before dropping his hand back down to the table.

Brian was about to ask the blond what his name was, when the blond boy ordered two shot. Brian tried to protest when the bartender slid one to him.

The blond slammed his back, and said, “C’mon, it takes the edge off. My tabs open. I’ll pay.”

He’ll pay? Well, how could Brian refuse that? It was at this point where the little angel on his shoulder was telling him not to do it. If he were to get absolutely pissed, Chrissie would be angry. She’d be angrier than she already was to begin with. However, there was a little devil on his other shoulder, and he urged him to take the shot. What does it matter what Chrissie thinks? She drove him to this. It was bound to happen eventually, and he was at a bar. _‘Fuck it,’_ Brian thought, slamming his drink back, like the blond had done before. He coughed as he sat the glass back down on the counter.

“It’s a little strong, mate,” the blond teased in response to Brian’s coughing fit, “Another one then?” 

“I think I might settle for something lighter,” he admitted.

The blond nodded and rapped his knuckles a few times on the counter to get the bartender’s attention, “Another pint of Guinness, mate. Uh, and whatever he wants,” he said, and motioned to Brian.

“Lager,” Brian said, and watched the bartender nod and walk off. He turned his attention back to the blond, “So, what brings you here on a Friday night?”

The blond shrugged, “I wanted a nice night out. Plus, my flatmate has his boyfriend over, and as much as I care about them, they make me want to throw myself out the window.”

Brian nodded, fully understanding where the blond was coming from. It reminded him of his band mates. John and Freddie were always lovey-dovey with each other. 

“Oh, well, I came here alone too. I’ve been trying to have a good time, but this isn’t my thing,” Brian admitted when the bartender returned to give them their drinks. He politely thanked him, and took a sip of his Lager, “I mean I enjoy going out with certain people, but they’re all busy tonight. It also doesn’t help that I’m not in the best mood to begin with.”

The boy nodded, and took a sip of his own drink, “Then why go out at all?”

Brian shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he wondered if he should tell the boy so much. Brian examined his face, and he had to admit he looked interested. The boy’s face scrunched slightly in concern, his blue eyes focused on what Brian might say next. Hell, he might as well tell him. It wasn’t like he would ever see this guy again, “Well,” Brian said, and took another large sip before he continued, “If you must know, I had a fight with my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She wanted me to have dinner with her and her parents, but I told her I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Seven months.”

The blond clicked his tongue, “Seven months is a long time. Has she met your parents?”

She had. That wasn’t the point. Chrissie pushed to meet Brian’s parents, and he didn’t care either way. That was it though, wasn’t it? Brian never pressured Chrissie, but he let her decide for herself if she wanted to. If it were up to Brian, he wouldn’t have introduced her yet. It was too soon. Brian told the boy this.

The blond who was still listening intently, and watching Brian carefully, kept nodding along to Brian’s winded speech, “It seems you’re not ready to fully commit,” he said after Brian finished, “You love her though, right?”

Brian shrugged, a little dizzy from the alcohol. It seemed harsh, but it was the truth, “I truly don’t know anymore. Sometimes, It’s like she’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Brian muttered as he hung his head. He wondered how he could say such a thing. After all, Chrissie was the only girl Brian ever cared about romantically. However, the words poured out of him like a cascade of water, and his mouth was a broken faucet. He stopped it there though, not wanting to speak ill of Chrissie any longer.

The blond must have been able to sense Brian’s discomfort on the matter, because he quickly changed the subject, “So, what do you study?”

Brian looked up at him, “What?”

“Where do you go? What is it you study?”

“I study astrophysics, over at Imperial College, and I’m going for a PhD.”

“Oh,” the blond’s lip curled up into a smirk, “So, am I supposed to refer to you as Dr. Brian May for the duration of this conversation?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Brian smiled as he took another drink.

The blond boy scoffed, “No way. I’m not one for stroking egos, rocket boy.”

“Aerospace engineers deal with rockets, and crafts that are sent up into space, actually. Astrophysicists deal with the nature of stars, and the constellations,” Brian said quickly, but realized he might have been talking too much when the blond rolled his eyes in response. He changed the subject by asking if he was in school.

“I’m finishing up my bachelor’s degree at London University.”

“What for?”

“Biology,” the blond smiled before adding, “Not as glamorous as a PhD though I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right. Biology is a wonderful thing to study.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. The study of the body is fascinating. You enjoy studying biology, yes?”

The blond nodded.

“Look over there,” Brian said, directing his attention to the rowdy group of uni students that had been sitting across from him, “those blokes came here to piss away their education. I know them. They're a bunch of trust fund kids. All they do is twiddle their thumbs, while mummy and daddy pay for an education, they’re probably pushing onto them. Not to mention they’re all unbelievably boring.”

The blond grinned, “That’s a bit harsh.”

Brian shook his head, “They’ll all become doctors, but I don’t think they care for the field, not really. They’re just in it for fame and awards. They’re all smart. However, knowing everything will not bring you fulfillment if you have no passion for what you’re studying.”

“Makes sense though. You want to recognition for something you’re good at and make money while doing it. That’s why you spend all those years in school.”

“It shouldn’t just be about that,” Brian pointed out.

“I’d be too scared to do what you do. Searching all the deep secrets of space,” the blond admitted, “It’s so big, and I’d feel so small. It’s like the universe is so vast, and I can’t help thinking in the big scheme of things, we don’t matter at all.”

“I don’t see it that way. I feel like the more we discover, the more meaning we put into life.”

“Yeah, but does it ever make you lonely? Knowing all this shit, I mean."

Brian shook his head, “I find that there’s a comfort in knowledge. Discovery is a part of life. Sometimes I feel lonelier near close friends than I ever do looking up at the stars.”

The blond stared at him with a peculiar expression on his face. His brow knit together, like he had just figured something out. He tilted his head slightly, eyes still trained on Brian as he said, “I know what you mean.”

At that, Brian smiled. It was a relieving, and wonderful experience, when you’ve truly gotten through to someone. Brian stared back at the blond, and holy shit his eyes were so blue. He had the longest lashes Brian had ever seen on a boy. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that made him notice. Regardless, Brian was getting flustered.

The blond must have noticed, because he broke eye contact, and looked away quickly. After a moment later though, he glanced back up to meet Brian’s gaze again, “You know,” he said, a coy smile playing at his lips, “I was planning on heading out soon.”

“Oh,” Brian said, a little disappointed.

The blond let his finger circle the tip of his glass and said, “I was planning on hitting a few more pubs, if you want to come with,” he replaced his playful gaze with a more lustful demeanor, and he then dropped his hand, placing it on Brian’s knee. His voice was thick like honey. The next words came out like a purr, “Maybe we could head back to my place?”

The realization of what was happening hit Brian like a truck. The moment he put two and two together, he jumped up from his seat, arms flailing a little to catch himself. He successfully ended up knocking over the blond’s drink, spilling it all over him.

This startled the blond at first, but then he regained his calm and said, “That’s fine, I was about finished with it anyway,” he grimaced, looking at his beer stained shirt, “You know, you could have just said no thank you.”

Brian didn’t pay attention to what the blond had just said. He was still stunned over what had just happened, “Why on earth would you think I wanted to go home with you?!” he asked incredulously.

The blond let out a huff of surprise, “You must forgive me, mate. I thought you were flirting.”

“Flirting?! Are you mad?! Since when is having a conversation considered flirting?!” Brian was almost hysterical.

The blond stared at Brian now as if he’d gone insane, “You are joking, right? Well, let’s see. When you stalk someone for an hour, let them buy you a drink, and have a genuine connection with them. Yeah, that I think fits the bill,” and with that, he pulled out a wad of cash and slapped it on the counter, “See you around, Dr. May,” he said, looking hurt. The blond then walked towards the restroom, probably to clean off the drink Brian spilled on him.

Brian felt a twinge of guilt as he watched the boy go. In hindsight, he should have handled the situation better. With a sigh, he made his way towards the men’s restroom, and when he walked through the door, as he predicted, the blond was trying to rub the beer off his shirt.

The blond looked up to meet Brian’s eyes, and then looked down at the floor, “Oh, it’s you.”

Brian ignored the hint of disdain in the blond’s voice as he said, “Here, let me help you.”

The blond scoffed, “I think you’ve done quite enough, thank you.”

Brian recoiled, the words hitting him hard in the stomach, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. uh-”

“Roger. My name is Roger.”

“Roger, I’m not like that,” he said, “I now understand how it must have looked. I’m not homophobic, and I think people should love whoever they want. Some of my best mates are gay, actually.”

“Good on you. Your medals in the post,” Roger’s voice was sharp, as he continued to rub furiously at the stain.

“Please, don’t be like that.”

“Piss off.”

Brian sighed, and stepped closer to the sink, though Roger ignored him. He soon got close enough to cause the boy to stop what he was doing and look up. Brian gently grabbed the paper towel from his hand and slowly ran it over warm water.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” he sneered.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Brian ignored him as he wrung out the paper towel, “My mother taught me this,” he said, bringing the paper towel to Roger’s shirt. He gently dabbed at the stain.

Roger silently glared at the ground, “It would have been best to just leave me alone.”

“And what if I don’t want to do that,” Brian said without thinking.

The atmosphere had changed suddenly. The air was thick. It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Brian continued dabbing, ignoring the awkward silence in the room. Eventually, the silence was too much. He quickly looked up at the other boy. In that moment they both caught each other’s eyes. Brian hoped Roger would look away. However, the other boy didn’t move. Brown staring deep into blue, Brian could have sworn Roger’s eyes sparkled. It was then, where Brian’s mind went a little hazy, because he didn’t remember who started it first, but soon the gap between them diminished and their lips met.

Hesitant at first, Brian moved his mouth without even thinking. Soon, the kiss became more urgent, and Brian let his hands come up to meet Roger’s face. With the damp paper towel long gone, Brian used his body to push the blond back against the sink. He let out a small moan when his brain finally realized what was happening. This allowed Roger to slip his tongue in, searching the insides of Brian’s mouth. It was hot, and dirty.

“Lift me,” he gasped, one hand behind him, gripping the counter, the other caressing Brian’s jaw, “up on the sink.”

Brian hoisted Roger on to the sink and moved between his spread legs. He got close and personal as he watched Roger unbutton his shirt. Brain ghosted his lips over Roger’s neck, his breath tickling the other boy’s ear.

Suddenly, Roger fisted Brian’s shirt and crushed their lips together. They both moved in harmony, the smaller boy wrapping his legs around Brian and rocking up, “Go ahead,” he whispered against Brian’s lips, “You can touch me.”

Brian moaned again, “Fuck, Roger,” his eyes fluttered, as he flitted his fingers across the blond’s exposed stomach, running his hands up Roger’s toned torso. It was firm, but also soft, and Brian liked that. However, Brian’s hands got bored, and they soon traveled down lower, finding themselves gripping Roger’s ass. Brian squeezed gently, kneading the denim-covered flesh in his hands.

Roger broke away, and nipped lightly at Brian’s jaw, “Do you also not consider this flirting, or have we crossed the line?” he asked, nuzzling Brian’s neck.

Instead of responding, Brian shut Roger up by kissing him fiercely. He bit down hard, which earned a little gasp in response. Brian felt Roger snake his hands up his shirt, gently scraping at Brian’s sides.

The smaller boy smirk against Brian’s lips, as he slid his hand to Brian’s nipple, giving it a pinch.

Brian’s breath hitched, and he rutted up against Roger. It had become almost desperate how much Brian needed this. They hadn’t even done anything but kiss, though it felt like Brian might cum at any minute, “Please,” he mumbled against Roger’s lips. Brian didn’t know what he was begging for exactly, but even in his alcohol induced mind, he knew that he needed it.

“What exactly is it you want, love?” his voice came out in a whisper. It was so full of earnest. He lifted his hand to Brian’s cheek.

Brian leaned into Roger’s hand and kissed his palm, “Want you to make me feel good.”

“I thought I was already doing that,” he teased.

“You know what I mean.”

Roger nodded, pushing Brian back so he could slide off the counter. He grabbed Brian’s hand and guided them both into a stall. He shut the stall door and locked it before turning to face Brian. They were close because of the small space, and their breaths mingled together. Roger slid his fingers to the back of Brian’s neck, and they kissed again, “You know, I must admit,” the blond said in between kisses, “I have been rather naughty, Brian. I’ve been having naughty thoughts about you all night,” he slid his leg between Brian’s thighs and rocked gently.

“Oh, yeah?” Brian said, trying to sound sexy while doing so, though it came out in a choked gasp.

“Yeah,” he said, grinding down a little harder, “Been wondering about those fingers of yours. So callous and long. I bet you’re good with those fingers.”

“I play guitar,” Brian pointed out, shifting a little to get a better angle.

“Oh, fucking perfect,” Roger groaned into Brian’s mouth, letting his hand fall to his own trousers, popping the button open. He took Brian’s hand in his own and guided it down the front and to the erection bulging in his underwear, “Go on then. Show me what nasty things those fingers of yours can do.”

Brian shuddered as the words went straight to his cock. He grabbed Roger’s erection and rubbed him gently through his underwear.

Roger let his head tip back onto the wall of the stall, when Brian finally pulled him out of his jeans. He let out a small moan while Brian pumped him experimentally. He was slow at first, but soon picked up the pace. 

Brian quickly closed the space between them again and kissed him. His tongue running over Roger’s bruised lips, as he continued to jerk the boy off. 

_‘He’s so beautiful’_ , Brian thought, watching the blond boy through hooded eyes. He never knew it could be this way. It was like a new discovery for Brian, something untouched to explore. It was as if he was lighter than air, as if he could breathe again, and it became clear to Brian what this was. It was euphoria.

“I wanna try something,” he said, pulling away suddenly.

Roger frowned a little from the loss of Brian’s hand, “What is it?”

Brian fidgeted a little, staring into those blue eyes again. Why couldn’t he stop looking at those eyes? He didn’t say a word. It was as if someone put a spell on him, and he could not communicate by talking. So, Brian showed him. With a little huff, Brian shook his nerves and sunk to his knees. 

“Oh,” Roger said.

“Is this ok?”

Roger only nodded.

Brian let his hands rest at the hem of Roger’s trousers, gripping them slightly. He licked his lips as he pulled both Roger’s trousers and boxers down to his ankles. Brian stared in awe at the sight of his dick, already hard, red, and dripping with pre-cum. He reached his hand out hesitantly, fingers grazing Roger’s erection, causing it to twitch in response. Brian’s breath quickening when he realized he didn’t know how to start.

“Are you ok?”

“I...” Brian looked down at the floor, his face reddened, and he wished a hole would open beneath him and swallow him up. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “I’ve never done this,” he admitted, looking up to meet the Roger’s gaze.

Roger’s face was unreadable, but he let his hand rest at Brian’s cheek, “It’s ok,” he said in a soothing voice, “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Brian’s voice strained, “I don’t really know how to go about it is all.”

Roger nodded, like he understood, “It’ll be all right. Go slow and take your time.”

Brian nodded, understanding a little better. Still, he was nervous. What if he messed up? Would Roger get upset? Brian really didn’t want to mess up the evening by embarrassing himself.

Fuck it.

Without a second thought, Brian grabbed Roger’s erection, stroking it in his hand. He leaned down and gave the head a tentative lick. The texture of skin was strange on his tongue, mixed with the taste of sweat and salt. Brian made a face.

Roger looked down chuckling, but the laugh quickly turned into a moan as Brian gave him another lick. This time it was along the side of his cock.

Brian gave a few more licks and glanced up to see Roger gazing down at him, his eyes clouded with lust. Brian then sat back and moved his head directly in front of Roger’s pelvis. He took a deep breath and wrapped his lips around the tip of the smaller boy’s cock. He slowly moved forward, keeping eye contact with the boy above while doing so.

“Shit,” Roger whispered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Brian did his best to remember what he was told, but it was hard to think with Roger’s dick heavy on his tongue. Nothing that thick had ever been in his mouth before, and he worried, but then Brian breathed through his nose, and he calmed down. When he couldn’t fit anymore in his mouth, he hollowed his cheeks, and began moving.

Roger threaded his hands through Brian’s hair, making encouraging sounds as Brian sucked him off.

Brian bobbed his head up and down, focusing on not scraping his teeth against Roger’s dick.

“That’s it- ah! Brian, keep going. You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, trailing off into another moan when Brian sped up.

It was silent then. The only noise being Roger’s quick gasps, and the sucking sound coming from Brian. He didn’t know how long it had been since they started, but Brian didn’t want to stop so soon. However, he suspected Roger might have been close to orgasm.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Roger shuddered, “Ah! Fuck, Brian,” he hissed, coming into Brian’s mouth, causing the curly-haired boy to gag.

Startled, Brian quickly moved away, falling onto his butt. He leaned towards the toilet, coughing, sputtering, and spitting out Roger’s load. Brian was afraid he might throw up. It had shot so quickly into his throat; he didn’t have time to prepare his gag reflexes.

“Sorry,” Roger said, a little dazed, “Should have warned you.”

Brian continued coughing until there was no more to cough up. He stayed there a moment, and when he knew he wouldn’t puke, he sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Roger held out his hand for Brian to take it. When he did, he pulled Brian up to his feet, and then kissed him feverishly, “That was lovely, and you did well for your first time,” he said.

Brian nodded, kissing him back, “Thank you.”

Roger pulled back, “Hey, I taste good,” he giggled while Brian grimaced. He ignored the face Brian made, “All right, your turn then?”

His turn? He thought in confusion, but Brian didn’t have much time to think when Roger pushed him back, causing him to hit the stall wall with a thud. He watched in amazement as Roger got on his knees

“What? You thought you could just blow me and not get anything in return?” he tutted, unbuttoning Brian’s trousers, “Dr. May, you might be the smartest guy in the room, but you lack any trace of common sense,” and with that, Roger yanked down Brian’s trousers along with his underwear, just like Brian had done earlier.

Brian blushed as his erection hit his stomach. He felt so exposed with nothing covering him. Brian glanced down to see Roger just staring at his dick, “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” now it was Roger’s turn to blush, “it’s just uh... It’s just you’re bigger than I’d thought you’d be. I mean, Jesus Christ, mate, you’ve got to be at least eight inches.”

Brian blinked. He never considered himself big in that area. It wasn’t like he measured himself. In fact, he always thought he was bad at sex. He had been with few women. Chrissie was the only one he had shagged more than once.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, thinking Roger might have wanted to stop now, due to Brian’s inexperience.

Roger stared at Brian as if he were crazy, “Sorry? About what?”

Brian looked away, not wanting to make eye contact, “Well, you must be well aware by now I’m not great at,” Brian waved his hand around slightly, “this. I’ve never been with another man before. So, it’s all right if you want to stop.”

Roger let out a little snort, “It’s a little intimidating is all. Besides,” he murmured, as he thumbed the head of Brian’s cock, “I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to.”

“Oh,” Brian gasped, half in response to what Roger had said, and the other half because it felt so fucking amazing. Brian bucked a little when Roger pressed down on the head of his dick.

“Excited, are we?” He smirked, and then leaned down to take Brian in his mouth.

“Oh! Oh, fuck!” Brian reached down and pulled at Roger’s hair.

Roger came off Brian with a pop, “Tsk tsk tsk. Such obscene language from a medical professional.”

“I’m an astrophysicist,” he whined, correcting Roger once again.

He gave Brian a Cheshire grin, “Oh, right, my mistake. Well, Dr. May, you’ll tell me if you see stars then?” and with that Roger was back on him.

Brian’s mouth hung open as he watched the boy below him intently. Brian had received blow jobs before, but this was different. It was so warm and soft like any other blow job, but it was also like nothing Brian had ever experienced before. It was something otherworldly.

Roger looked up at Brian through long lashes. His mouth pink around Brian’s cock, and his face flushed. Desire filled his eyes as he continued to take as much as he could of Brian.

Brian’s grip tightened on the blond locks, trying hard not to face fuck Roger into the opposite wall.

It was hot, quick, and dirty. Brian realized it differed from what he had done, which had been slower and more sensual. However, even as the blond dug his fingernails into Brian’s hips, hard enough to break skin, there was something intimate in this approach. It was something foreign, and new. 

Brian tipped his head back, mouth still agape, and eyes screwed shut, he knew he was coming to an orgasm, “Close,” he panted, tugging hard on Roger’s hair to get his attention.

Roger said nothing, but sped up in his movements, while Brian made a little mewling sound, begging Roger to make him cum.

Brian was panting hard now. He was so close. All it took was Roger pushing himself deeper onto Brian, and reaching up to squeeze his balls, and then that was it, “Roger,” Brian groaned, and stars danced behind his eyes as he came in Roger’s mouth. 

Roger casually pulled off Brian and leaned over to spit in the toilet.

“That was,” Brian trailed off.

“All right,” Roger admitted, pulling himself up. He smiled at Brian, watching him tuck himself back into his jeans.

Brian didn’t respond to Roger’s remark, too wrapped up in the afterglow to say anything. It took a moment for Brian to string together any coherent thought, but when he finally came back down from his high, he remembered something. And, that something was Chrissie.

Brian’s stomach lurched forward as the realization dawned on him. He was still with Chrissie. He had oral sex with some stranger in a pub restroom, and he was still in a relationship with Chrissie. Chrissie, his sweet, hardheaded, opinionated, girlfriend. He had cheated on her.

The room was spinning, and Brian thought he might throw up all the alcohol he had consumed in the past few hours.

Roger noticed Brian’s behavior, and said, “You all right?”

Brian turned towards Roger, and he had forgotten for a moment he wasn’t alone. Brian’s face revealed a mournful look, but he couldn’t look the other boy in the eyes, “We shouldn’t have done this.”

“What do you mean?”

“My girlfriend,” Brian was crying now. Tears welled in his eyes as he hugged himself.

Roger looked like Brian had just punched him, “Oh,” was all he said.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, tears now falling freely from his eyes.

“Well, you did, didn’t you? You made the choice,” Roger’s voice was accusing now, “You and I made that decision together.”

Brian let out a choked sob. He turned away in shame.

It was silent again, and it swept away any euphoric afterglow from the two boys as the gravity of the situation crashed down on them. Roger looked down at his shoes, “I should go.”

Brian didn’t respond. He held his face in his hands and waited for the Roger to leave. When he heard the stall door open, and then later the restroom door, Brian let his hands fall to his side. He then shut the stall door and locked it.

How could it have gone this far? How could he have been so stupid? He let lust cloud his judgment, and now he didn’t know what to do. He needed to leave. He had to get out of there.

Brian quickly pulled out his phone.  He then dialed a number for a taxi, trying hard to push Roger far from his thoughts. After that, he made his way outside, keeping his eyes on the ground as he pushed out into the chilly October air. Brian waited for the taxi, just wanting to go home so tonight could be over. But, when the car pulled up to the curb, beckoning him inside, he knew it would never be over. The memory would stay in his mind forever.

Brian climbed into the back of the taxi, leaning his head on the window, watching the flurry of lights go by from passing cars. Lights illuminated tall buildings and signs, that made a conglomerate of color. It swirled around and was so bright, Brian had to shut his eyes. 

He kept his eyes closed for the rest of the ride, but still the neon luminescence jumped behind his eyelids, and in the flurry of lights, there were bright blue eyes, blond hair, and a radiant smile that Brian wanted to forget.

Brian would never forget.

* * *

The next morning, Brian woke up to find himself on the couch. He must have crashed there in attempts to not wake Chrissie. 

His eyes scanned the small flat, while his brain was still pulling itself from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, thankful his head wasn’t killing him. He didn’t seem to have a hangover.

Brian sat up slowly, the memories from last night came flooding back like a tidal wave. Brian’s stomach churned, and he immediately got up and ran to the sink.

Despite not eating much the previous night, Brian emptied everything in his stomach as green bile made its way into the sink below. Legs shaking, he wiped the vomit from his mouth then cleaned up the mess he’d just made. 

Finally, he got his nerves under control enough to make a pot of coffee. Brian decided he needed a pick-me-up to make it through band practice. As he made coffee, he could hear the shower going from the bathroom. Chrissie must have woken up.

Brian worried for a moment that Chrissie might have heard him get sick, but it didn’t matter at that point. Silently, he continued to make coffee, and a bowl of oatmeal. Weirdly enough, the bland, gooey substance didn’t upset his stomach.

As he sat down to eat, Brian examined the small one-bedroom flat. It had a unique charm to it, but to Brian, it wasn’t home. The flat used to be Chrissie’s, but they had moved in together a couple months ago. Well, it was more Chrissie’s doing than his own. Brian had been fine like he was.

After a while, Chrissie emerged from the hallway, a towel around her neck, using one hand to dry he hair with it. 

“Hello,” she said, a little reluctantly.

“Hello,” Brian said, pushing back his oatmeal. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

“You get home all right?” She asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, I called a taxi.”

“That’s good,” she said, taking a seat across from Brian. She smiled up at him sweetly, her dark, wet hair falling in front of her face, “Wouldn’t know what I’d do if you’d gotten hurt. I tried to stay up, just in case you needed a ride back home, or if you were too drunk to get to bed, but I fell asleep.”

And, there it was. She was so nice and forgiving. Even after the fight they had, Chrissie still cared about him enough to wait up, and to make sure he was ok. Brian really didn’t deserve her.

“Brian,” she said after a moment of silence, “Brian, I want to say I’m sorry for how I acted last night. I shouldn’t push you. We don’t need to have dinner with my parents. I thought...” Chrissie trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes. She aggressively wiped them away, “It’s stupid. I’m stupid,” she muttered to herself.

Brian felt a pang in his chest. He pushed himself from the table, and knelt in front of Chrissie, taking her hands into his. “Hey,” he breathed, “You’re not stupid. I was a prick last night. Chrissie, you did nothing wrong.”

“I know you have problems with meeting my family, Brian. It’s just I don’t understand why.”

Brian shifted uncomfortably, “It isn’t anything you, or your parents did, Chrissie. It’s me. I’m the problem. I get upset when people try to force me into things, but I shouldn’t take my anger out on you. You understand that, right?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly, “I know. I understand. It’s ok, really, Brian. We’ll go some other time.”

Brian stood up then and kissed Chrissie on top of her head. He grabbed his bowl of half eaten oatmeal and scooped it down the drain. It looked like vomit, which made Brian’s stomach lurch again. This time though, he choked it down and continued to rinse out his bowl. He stepped back and looked at Chrissie, who was staring down at her coffee cup.

“Uh, Chrissie?” 

She stared back up at him with a strained smile, “Yeah, Brian?”

“What time was the dinner again?”

Chrissie blinked in surprise, “Saturday, at six o’clock. Why?”

“Well, I need to know the time. Don’t want to be late, right?”

Chrissie’s surprised expression changed into a genuine grin, “Oh, Brian. Do you mean it?”

Brian smiled back, “Yeah, I do."

Chrissie jumped up from her chair and wrapped her arms around Brian’s neck. She kissed him.

Brian kissed her back, smile on his lips. He enjoyed making Chrissie happy.

Suddenly, a familiar voice popped into Brian’s head, _‘You made the choice. You and I made that decision together’_. Brian pulled away from Chrissie, smiling, but inside he wanted to scream out.

“Y’know,” Chrissie said coyly, “Class doesn’t start for another hour. Maybe we could...,” she trailed off, eyes leading towards the bedroom.

“Oh,” Brian bit his lip, “I can’t,” he lied, “Band practice, and all that.”

Chrissie nodded her head like she understood, “Right. Well, how about a raincheck?”

Brian smiled, and then kissed her on the nose, “Definitely.”

She smiled back, “I love you.”

Despite the haunting memories from last night, nagging and berating him. Brian looked deep into Chrissie’s eyes and said, “I love you too.”

* * *

“Try calling him again,” Brian said, probably for the sixth time in the last hour. He was beyond pissed. He knew he should have never let Freddie pick their new drummer. They had been sitting around for about two hours waiting for this dude to show up.

Freddie, who had abandoned his phone at that point, looked at Brian in exasperation, “I’ve already called him eighteen times. I don’t think he’s going to pick up, dear.”

Brian groaned. How hard was it to show up to an audition? John and Freddie had even put the guy’s drum set in John’s car the night before and set it up so they could get the audition done and over with.

“He said he’d be here,” Freddie said, “He knew practice started at 11, and he’s an hour and a half late,” He stopped in front of John, who was strumming the bass line to Taxman.

“Maybe something happened. An accident?” John suggested when he stopped playing and slid his bass off his shoulders. He then took a seat next to Brian, who was reading a book while they waited.

“For his sake, dear, I hope you’re right.”

“Well, he better be damn good, Fred. This is bloody ridiculous,” Brian grumbled, not taking his eyes off ‘A Separate Peace’.

Freddie bit his lip, “I wouldn’t know. Never heard him play.”

“You never heard him play?!” Brian was looking up now, brown eyes cutting through the older boy like a knife, “You told us he was good.”

Freddie didn’t react to Brian’s tantrum. He waved his hand, “I said he could play.”

“You did,” Brian confirmed.

“I didn’t say he played well. He had a drum kit when he moved in, so I assumed-”

“Fred, that means absolutely nothing. I could carry around a bunch of rocks in my pocket, but that doesn’t make me a geologist.”

Freddie made a face, “Why would you carry around rocks in your pocket?” 

“We wait ten more minutes, and then I say we leave,” John said, before Brian threw his book at Freddie.

“This is the last time we let one of Freddie’s flatmates join the band. Remember the last one? A couple bass players before John?"

Freddie’s face contorted into a look of regret, “Yes. That didn’t end well.”

“What happened?” John looked intrigued now.

“Let’s say we fired him for... creative differences. What did he call us, Brian?”

“A group of pompous poofs,” Brian sighed, “after he punched me in the face.”

“He hit you?!”

“And when he moved out, he stole the toaster,” Freddie said, “Roger is different though.”

John nodded, “I do really like Roger,” he admitted.

Brian’s gut twisted at the mention of that name. After last night, he didn’t think he could talk to anyone with the name ‘Roger’ ever again. It was absolute bollocks, and a cruel irony that their potential new drummer, would have the same name as the boy from the pub. Though, he had to admit, he was surprised John took a liking to Freddie’s new flatmate. John didn’t like anyone. Brian hadn’t met this guy yet, but he must have been special if John enjoyed his company.

“Have all of your band mates that quit ended up hating your guts, or?” John asked, pulling Brian from his thoughts.

“Well, not all,” Freddie said, thinking for a moment, “there’s Tim, but that’s about it.”

“I think he quit so he could _stay_ friends with us,” Brian joined in.

“Right,” Freddie said, “He left because, and I quote, ‘I value our friendship more than being in a band with you two’.”

“Wow, that speaks volumes,” John said.

Freddie scoffed, “I thought he was a bit over dramatic.”

“I get it. You two can be controlling. You’re both anal retentive perfectionists.”

“Well, if we’re so bloody awful, John, why don’t you leave?” Brian sneered, making Freddie glare at him.

John shrugged, “Guess I enjoy suffering. I must be a masochist.”

“Yeah, you must be if you’re dating Freddie.”

Freddie gasped, and then smacked Brian over the head, hard.

Brian growled, and then chucked his book at Freddie, who was already running to the other side of the room.

“Not the face, not the face!” Freddie screeched, covering his eyes. The book hit Freddie in the thigh, “Ow! That hurt! Brian, you bitch.”

“You hit me on the head!”

“You hurt my feelings,” Freddie pouted.

John ignored his band mates’ bickering, and walked over to pick up Brian’s book, “Huh, ‘A Separate Peace’.”

“Fred, put her down!”

John glanced back up to see Freddie holding up Brian’s guitar, the Red Special, like he was about ready to swing a baseball bat. John glanced back down and thumbed through the pages.

Brian was ashamed to say he was almost in tears, “Put her down, Freddie, I’m serious,” he grabbed at the neck of the guitar and pulled it down.

“You’ll get this back when you learn how to treat others with respect,” Freddie said, yanking it towards him.

“You were about to smash my guitar on the wall,” Brian said incredulously.

“Oh, is this the one where the boy dies at the end from bone marrow in his blood?” John asked, not looking up from the book.

“You are such a child sometimes, Fred!”

“Oh, sod off, Brian!”

The two boys continued to fight, while John continued to look through Brian’s book. None of them had realized the door had opened.

“Oi, what the fuck is this?”

Brian, Freddie, and John’s heads snapped up all at once.

“Oh, hello, Roger,” John smiled.

Freddie let go of Brian’s guitar, nearly knocking Brian to the ground. He smoothed out his shirt, “Yes, darling, nice of you to stop by.”

Brian didn’t speak. His throat had closed indefinitely when he saw those pale blue eyes. This had to be a nightmare. It was the blond from the pub. Their new drummer, Roger. It was _Roger_. In the agonizing moments of silence that spiraled around the two boys, Brian couldn’t help but think, _‘How’s that for a cruel irony?’_

He could tell Roger was as shocked as he was. They stood there staring for what felt like an eternity, when Brian broke the silence. He wanted to say so many things, and ask so many questions, but the only words that passed his lips were, “It’s you.”


	3. Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I've seen on this story. I especially love reading the comments! However, I personally don't think this chapter is very good. There's a lot of dialog, and I kind of rushed through it. I hope you enjoy nonetheless, and the next chapter will be up next week. Thanks for reading!

Brian’s voice had rung clear in Roger’s ears, like morning bells.

“It’s you.”

Roger couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even think. _‘This has to be a fucking joke’_ , Roger thought to himself. One of the guys had to be putting him on. This couldn’t be happening. Roger was utterly lost for words. How was this even fucking possible?

Roger thought hard, making his head hurt worse than it already did. How did he not see this coming? he tried to reach for any clues that could have indicated Brian’s identity. Something that linked last night’s Brian, to Freddie’s guitar player Brian. At that moment it hit him. Roger remembered back to when he and Brian were in the restrooms.

_“I bet you’re good with those fingers.”_

_“I play guitar.”_

The sheer absurdity that Brian told Roger who he was, made him laugh out loud. It was the first thing he'd done after his initial arrival, and he received strange looks from both Freddie and John. Roger supposed it wasn’t impossible for there to be two Brian’s who play guitar in London, but Roger still found the situation funny.

“It is me,” he said finally, “And, it’s you too.”

It took Brian a moment to find his words, his expression of shock quickly turned into annoyance, “Don’t be funny. Practice started almost two hours ago.”

Roger grinned, “Would you believe it, Brian, I had slept in. I was all tuckered out from a night on the town.”

John and Freddie exchanged looks of confusion, “I’m sorry, are we missing something here? Do you two know each other?” John asked.

Roger said yes at the same time Brian said no. Both boys stared at each other. Roger wore a shit-eating grin, while Brian looked as if he could throttle the other boy.

“Well, this is a surprise!” Freddie said cheerfully, “How do you two know each other?”

Brian tensed, but his voice remained calm, “We met last night at a pub, actually.”

“Yeah,” Roger said nonchalantly, as he picked at the loose string on his jacket, “Had a nice chat, and then we gave each other blowies in the men’s loo.”

Brian nearly lost it.

Roger watched in amusement as all the air seemed to leave Brian’s lungs in a shocked gasp. It sounded close to a dying animal.

Freddie giggled maniacally, while John tried to suppress a smile.

“I think you broke him, Roger,” John said, looking at Brian who was almost shaking with what seemed to be a mix of shock, sadness, and anger all rolled into one.

Roger ignored Brian and went over to his kit, “Nice job guys,” he said, running his hand over the top of the snare, “Should we start the audition then?”

“Absolutely fucking not. You’re either on time, or you lose the chance to audition,” Brian’s voice came out sharp, and so cold that the others could feel it.

“Oh, Brian dear, cheer up. He was only joking,” Freddie said, putting an arm around the still trembling guitarist.

“Forget it, Fred. Those are the rules.”

“We don’t have any rules,” John reminded him, going over to where Roger was and picked up his bass, “Get over it. He’s here. Why not let him play?”

“Then fuck it. I quit,” Brian said, making John roll his eyes.

“Brian,” Freddie gently soothed, holding Brian’s hands in his own, “Don’t be like that. Roger was just trying to be funny. Would you let him play for us if he apologized?”

Roger felt a pang in his chest. He was sitting behind his drums already, twirling a drumstick in his hand. It wasn’t like he intentionally meant to hurt Brian. Well, perhaps he did, only a little, but Roger didn’t mean to upset him that badly. Though if he took into consideration, the state he left Brian in last night, he was being a massive dick, “Sorry, mate,” Roger said, and he meant it.

Brian had stopped shaking, and ran his hand through his bushy hair, “Fine,” was all he said. He appeared to be tired and concerned. It made Brian look older than he was.

“So, what is it you’re going to play for us, Roger?” Freddie asked, probably relieved they were finally getting started, and that Brian didn’t rip Roger’s head off.

“Do you know My Generation by The Who?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” John smiled, “Difficult too,” he added.

“I can do it,” Roger reassured him.

“Get on with it then,” Brian said, not in an angry tone, but a more professional one. He picked up his guitar.

“All right, Roger, are you ready?” Freddie came up to him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. No pressure, darling, but remember this. I’ve been vouching for you this whole time. Please don’t make me regret my decision,” Freddie’s eyes were pleading at first, and then he smiled. Freddie patted Roger on the back and then walked to where Brian and John stood.

Roger nodded, as an abundant amount of pressure weighed down on him. He didn’t even want to do this. He was only here because he lost some stupid bet. So, what if he didn’t make it into the band? It was no skin off his nose. Yet, there was that familiar gut wrenching feeling he always got when he was lying to himself. Regardless of how he felt, Roger would give Freddie one hundred percent. It was the least he could do. As a drummer, and as a friend.

He started off the song, keeping time as he hit his drums. It had been a few months since he played. He hadn’t even played a jam session since his last band. Roger had to admit it was amazing. Little beads of sweat were forming on his brow, and that nostalgic burn in his arms were coming back.

Soon he heard Brian, and then John join in. Roger took a second to let this moment sink in and get absorbed in the music. It was undeniable that they sounded great together. Both John and Brian were experts at what they did, and they paired well with Roger’s drums.

Suddenly, Brian and John stopped playing their instruments. They were towards the end of the song, where Keith would absolutely beast out on the drums and then kick over his kit at the end. Roger knew this was intentional, and this bit was probably where the boys would make their decision.

Roger focused, and despite still being hungover, poured every ounce of himself into the drums. The sensation was so powerful, and with a renewed vigor, he gripped his sticks, pounded away at the drums below. It was like another force was driving him entirely. When he finally finished, Roger was breathing hard. He’d need a drink after that. Maybe some water, given his current state.

“I’m sorry,” Roger said when he caught his breath. He still had the sticks in his hands, gripping them tight as he kept his gaze lowered, “I was slow, and a bit off. I’ll pick it up though. I’ll sound a lot better when I’m not hungover, and I’ve had time to properly tune my drums,” Roger said, finally looking up at the three other boys.

“I’m sorry did you say you were slow?!” Freddie let out a huff of surprise. He was the first person to say anything, “I thought your drums would catch on fire with how fast you were hitting them. What do you mean slow?”

Roger’s face was flushed, his cheeks burning scarlet, “I-”

“That was bloody fantastic,” Freddie was gushing, “Did you two see that? It was like we had Keith Moon right here with us!” he laughed giddily, clapping his hands together.

That made Roger’s face become bright red, “Freddie,” he whined, covering his face with his hands, “It really wasn’t anything spectacular.”

“Don’t be modest, Roger. You’re obviously gifted at playing the drums,” John said matter-of-factly, “How long have you been playing?”

Roger let out a little laugh, “Since I was seven. Mum and dad wanted me to play an instrument, since sports weren’t my thing. They said I could pick whichever one I wanted, so long as I kept at it, and so I chose the drums. I’d listen to a lot of classic rock on my dad’s old record player, which used to belong to my grandfather before my dad had it. I copied a lot of my style from drummers like Mitch Mitchell and Ginger Baker. Classic rock has always been a great inspiration for me.”

“Well, Roger, clearly you’ve exceeded all of our expectations. I’d love to have you play with us. John?” Freddie turned to his boyfriend.

John shrugged, “He’s got my vote.”

They all turned to Brian, who had been standing there silent the entire time. He was staring straight at Roger, his face unreadable. Finally, Brian cleared his throat, “I won‘t lie, you were brilliant. You might be one of the best drummers I’ve ever jammed with.”

Roger was speechless. He didn’t think Brian’s praise would affect him so much, but damned if he wasn’t blushing like a schoolgirl, “So, you’re saying you want me in?”

“I’m saying that I’d be an idiot to turn a drummer like you down. Having you would be heavily beneficial to the band.”

_‘The band,’_ Roger thought to himself. Only the band? Roger shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet it was like Brian gut punched him, “Thanks,” Roger said. His high he usually got after playing instantly deflated. Brian’s words cut him deeper than he’d like to admit.

 Why the hell did he care, anyway? It was just one night. One stupid, drunken night. Roger had been in the city for almost two months and has had a plethora of quickies and one-night stands with strangers. Why on earth did Brian affect him so much? _‘Because, you had to face him the next day,’_ Roger thought, answering himself. ‘ _Oh, for fucks sake’_.

“Not just carrying rocks in his pocket, is he?” Freddie looked pointedly at Brian, who rolled his eyes in response.

Roger, who had gotten up to grab a water bottle out of his bag, turned to them, “Rocks in my pocket?”

Freddie waved his hand dismissively, and turned to his two band mates, “So, that’s it then? Roger’s in?” He was nearly bursting with joy when they both nodded. Freddie hopped over to Roger and wrapped his arms around him.

Roger smirked and wrapped an arm around Freddie, “I’m sweaty, Fred.”

“We can be sweaty together,” Freddie said, squeezing him tighter.

“Welcome to hell, Roger. We can get you a song sheet later,” John said, “We’re gonna have to cut it short today since I have class.”

“Would have had time to practice if someone would have showed up on time, and didn’t get smashed like I asked them to,” Freddie mumbled, earning a small pinch from Roger, “Ouch!” Freddie pulled away from him, pouting.

“We meet back here on Wednesday,” Brian said, packing up his things. He picked up his book from where John placed it on the ground.

Roger walked over to him and touched his arm gently, causing Brian to flinch, “Hey, can I speak to you in private?”

Brian didn’t look at Roger, “When the others leave,” he said, and sat down to continue reading his book.

Roger nodded and left Brian to go help Freddie and John disassemble his drums. They put the kit back into John’s car and then continued cleaning up the band room. When they left, he made his way back to Brian, who was still concentrated on his book. Quietly, Roger took a seat next to him. He peered at the book cover, “A Separate Peace,” Roger grinned, “You know that book is flooded with all kinds of homoerotic subtext, right?”

Brian ignored his comment and set the book down. He looked at Roger, “What do you want?”

Roger thought Brian sounded tired, and he tried not to assume it was because of him. He coughed, and cleared his throat, “Isn’t it obvious.”

“It’s obvious you’re trying to ruin my life.”

“What?”

“That comment you made earlier. Why did you tell them that?” Brian’s voice was raw. He looked genuinely terrified.

Roger blinked up at him, “I- I was just…” Roger thought to himself for a moment. He really didn’t have a good reason.

“What we did last night was a mistake,” Brian said in a low voice, “I don’t need you going around, and telling people.”

“Brian, relax. All right? They didn’t believe me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Brian’s jaw was set in anger.

“So, what happened between us? That means absolutely nothing to you,” Roger snapped, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, that’s right. Also, you better keep my name out of your mouth. I don’t want people getting ideas.”

That sent Roger over the edge, and he stood up, “Ideas?! What the fuck are you talking about?! Look, if this has to do with your girlfriend, trust me, I won't tell her.”

“I don’t want people to get the wrong impression of me.”

“What? That you’re a cheater? Or the fact that you’re gay?”

Brian froze. He looked the same as he did earlier, after Roger made the blow job comment. It was like all the oxygen left his body, “I’m not gay.”

Roger let out a surprised laugh, “Are you joking? You’re about as queer as a three-dollar bill!”

Brian stood up suddenly, getting close to Roger. He pushed the smaller boy back, “Get out.”

Roger wasn’t laughing anymore. It was obvious he’d crossed a line.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Brian growled, pushing Roger again, “I said get the fuck out of my face.”

Roger held his ground. He would not let Brian intimidate him like this, “Why, Brian? Why does it bother you to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about. Now, get out.”

Roger’s lip curled in disgust. He stomped over to the door, and then looked back one last time, “You’re a fucking joke. You know that? What do you expect Fred and John would say if they were here right now?”

“Just leave,” Brian said. All the anger was stripped away from his voice and was replaced with a sorrowful demeanor.

“Wanker,” Roger growled, before ripping the door open, and slamming it behind him.

Later that night, Roger was curled up on the couch watching tv. He thumbed through the channels, not paying much attention to what he was watching. His mind was still on Brian.

Roger couldn’t wrap his head around the enigma that was Brian May. It had amazed him that someone could be that deep in the closet. The fact he was so dead set on denying the truth about himself, even when it was staring him right in the face, confused Roger even more.

It wasn’t as if Roger wanted to be with Brian. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Despite how he acted at practice earlier that day, Roger knew there was still some ‘other Brian’ wedged deep inside the other boy. The same Brian that Roger met at the pub last night. He wanted to see that Brian again.

However, Roger knew it was a lost cause. He couldn’t fix what was wrong with Brian. It didn’t matter, anyway. Even if Brian had been out from the beginning, he made it very clear to Roger that he wanted nothing to do with him.

Roger sighed and rested his head on the arm of the couch. He closed his eyes, letting sleep slowly take over his body. He didn’t move until he heard the front door open and shut. Roger sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Freddie said. He smiled as he sat down next to Roger.

“Hey, Freddie.”

Freddie narrowed his eyes, “You’re upset. Why?”

Roger stared back at Freddie incredulously, “How'd you know that?”

“I have a sixth sense about these things. Now, what’s the problem?”

Roger fidgeted, wondering if he should tell Freddie about Brian.

“C’mon, out with it,” Freddie said once he saw Roger’s hesitant expression.

“I don’t think I can do it, Fred,” Roger finally said.

Freddie tilted his head in confusion, “Do what, dear?”

“Be in the band.”

Freddie didn’t say a word.

“I know I lost the bet,” Roger blurted, “But, I really don’t think this will work out.”

“And why might that be?” Freddie asked. He wasn’t angry, but he seemed curious to why Roger wanted to leave.

“It’s Brian. We got into a fight after you left. I really don’t think he likes me, Fred.”

“He’ll get over it.”

Roger shook his head, “It’s not that simple. You should have seen him. He hates my guts.”

“Roger, Brian doesn’t hate anybody.”

“You should have seen him, Freddie. He hates me.”

Freddie’s body language changed immediately. He looked very concerned, “Roger, why are you saying this? Did Brian do something?”

Roger shook his head, “He didn’t get physical, if that’s what you mean?”

“Then what is it, Roger? You can tell me.”

“Freddie,” Roger said, but then closed his mouth, creating a tight thin line. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t just Brian, but a whole list of things. Some of which he brought over for Truro, but he couldn’t even get that far. Roger let out a choked sob, and he covered his mouth with his hand. It came out of nowhere really, but soon tears were falling freely down his cheek. He hated showing this side of himself to people.

“Oh, Roger,” Freddie sighed, wrapping his arms around the younger boy, “You’re not having a good day. Are you, lovie?”

Roger curled into Freddie’s shoulder and wept silently. He mumbled something that ended up being drowned out in the fabric of Freddie’s shirt.

“What was that?”

“I said, I want to go home.”

Freddie looked perplexed for a moment, “But, you are home, dear.”

“No. No, I mean home. Where I lived before.”

“Oh.”

Roger sat up and wiped at his tear-stained cheeks, “I miss my mum, and my sister,” he admitted.

“I see,” Freddie said, brushing the hair away from Roger’s eyes, “You’re a bit homesick. I can imagine how hard it is to be away from your family, and in a strange new environment no less. It’s all right to be overwhelmed,” Freddie turned slightly, so they were better facing each other, “Believe it or not, I understand what you’re going through. When I was a kid, my parents sent me off to boarding school at a very young age. I was alone and scared, and I missed my family terribly. I walked around every day in an unfamiliar place. I didn’t know what I was doing. There wasn’t a day I didn’t wish to be back home,” Freddie looked down for a moment, and then moved his hand up to his eyes to wipe away a few stray tears, “We move on though. Having friends to get you through it helps, however.”

“I’m sorry, Fred. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be, Roger. You have nothing to apologize for,” Freddie smiled sympathetically before patting Roger’s leg, “I do have a question for you though.”

“Yes?”

“What was the fight about? Between you and Brian, I mean. Maybe I could help if you tell me what happened.”

Roger sighed, “It’s a lot of things, Fred. To give you the short version, I met him last night at the pub. We were both drunk, and we… We got into an argument that didn’t end well. Then, this morning, I kind of sent him over the edge.”

Freddie nodded, “Well, if it truly bothers you both, then you don’t have to come back.”

Roger looked up at Freddie, “Really?”

Freddie nodded again, this time with an almost mournful expression, “It’s your choice. Bet or no bet. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Roger sat there for a moment. This was his way out, he realized. All this dreading over playing in a new band. It could disappear. Also, he’d never have to see Brian again. A rush of relief hit him instantly but left him just as quick when he saw Freddie’s face. Roger then knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t quit the band. Not when Freddie was literally hanging on by a thread. Not when Roger was most likely his last hope for a successful band. They needed him, and in some odd way, Roger needed them too.

“Fred, I wanna stay in the band.”

Freddie blinked, “But, earlier you said-”

“I changed my mind,” Roger took a deep breath, “I think I need this.”

“And, Brian won’t be a problem?”

Roger sighed, “Probably, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Freddie let out a small chuckle, “All right then. We’ll see about that at practice Wednesday. You better be on time.”

“I will I will,” Roger grumbled, resting his head onto Freddie’s shoulder, “Hey, Fred?” he said after a moment.

“Hm?” Freddie tightened his arm around Roger.

“Thank you.”

“For what, dear?”

“For being my friend.”

Freddie looked at him with pride. He smiled warmly, “It’s my pleasure,” he said, and let his head rest on Roger’s, “Thank you for being mine.”

A tidal wave of warmth spread all over Roger’s body. He felt safe, and he felt lucky. He was lucky to have people like Freddie in his life. In that moment, Roger didn’t feel as homesick anymore. 

* * *

Roger knew he promised Freddie that he’d get along with Brian, but Brian was making it difficult. Whenever Roger had a suggestion, Brian would make it his mission to make him look like an idiot. He appreciated Freddie and John, who would get onto Brian when he spoke this way. Roger especially appreciated John, who never hesitated to call Brian out on his bullshit.

He realized however; it couldn’t keep going on this way. It started relatively small at first, but then it became a struggle to even get through one practice without ripping into each other. These fights could start out of nowhere but end with the band just quitting for the day. They really weren’t getting anything productive done, and it was all Roger and Brian’s fault.

Yes, Roger couldn’t blame it all on Brian. He too would get under Brian’s skin for the hell of it. He didn’t understand why, but Roger enjoyed seeing Brain mad. He liked to see that he had this effect on Brian, a man who is usually kind and diligent. Roger enjoyed knowing he could make a peaceful, intelligent man, into a screaming lunatic within minutes. It was a kind of power Roger didn’t mind taking advantage of.

However, as the weeks passed by, Roger could tell Freddie and John were at the end of their rope. They had been there to extinguish the flames of every fight, without fail. It was clear though, that their patience was running thin.

This was proven one day during practice. Roger had said Brian played too fast, and that he needed to slow down. Brian suggested that Roger keep time with the rest of the group. This turned into a big fight. It carried on for about ten minutes before Freddie decidedly had enough.

“All right, that is enough!” Freddie was standing between them now. He had to push his way into the middle, so Roger wouldn’t clobber Brian over the head.

“He started it,” Brian said, stepping back with a huff. He crossed his arms and glared at Roger.

“Oh, you fucking wish,” Roger spat, trying to get over to where Brian was.

Freddie pushed him back, “I said enough! Look at you two! Why, John and I are at our wits end with this.”

“The fighting has to stop,” John joined in, “We can’t practice efficiently with you two getting on like this.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” Brian said, “It isn’t my fault Roger has a short temper and can’t take constructive criticism.”

“And, it isn’t my fault Brian is terrible at everything!” Roger shot back.

“Well, it isn’t our fault you two keep acting like toddlers!” John snapped, and the rest of the group looked at him in surprise. John never raised his voice. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked over at Freddie, “No more dancing around the issue, Fred, you need to tell them.”

“Right,” Freddie said, nervously glancing at Brian and Roger, “You two understand John and I care about you, right?”

“Of course, Fred,” Brian said.

“Well, you see. This fighting isn’t doing anybody any good. Well, John and I, we… We can’t keep being the referees in all of your fights.”

“What are you saying?” Roger folded his arms.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Freddie,” John groaned. He faced Brian and Roger, “You two fighting is making it impossible for us to get any work done. So, either get it together, or leave and don’t come back.”

“You’re threatening to kick us out?” Brian was at a loss for words, “Freddie?” he tried to reason with the older boy, but Freddie shook his head.

“He’s right, Brian.”

“This is bollocks!” Brian growled, “I helped start this band.”

“And you’re running it into the ground,” John said, “Is it really that hard, Brian? You too, Roger. Is it really that hard to try to get along? Jesus Christ, are you both really that stubborn?”

Freddie cleared his throat, before Brian or Roger could say anything, “We’re cutting it here for today. So, here is what’s going to happen. I want you two to hang out at least once before practice next week. I want you to talk about your problems and come to an understanding. You don’t have to become best friends. Hell, you don’t even have to like each other. At least try to fucking tolerate each other for the sake of the band. If you two can’t even do that then don’t bother showing up next week, or any other week after that.”

Roger stood there in silence for a moment. He glanced over at Brian who looked absolutely fucking miserable. He looked back over to John and Freddie, “All right,” he sighed.

Freddie nodded and looked at Brian, “And you?”

Brian, who had been livid only moments before, was staring at the ground. When he spoke it sounded broken, like he was close to tears, “For the band. I’ll try for the band.”

“Good,” Freddie sighed in relief, “Thank you both. Now, get out.”

Brian’s head shot up, “What?”

“Your suspension from the band starts now,” Freddie shooed both Brian and Roger towards the door, “Get out, and don’t come back until you’ve stopped fighting.”

Roger rolled his eyes as he continued to let Freddie push him out the door, “What? No kiss goodbye?” he asked as he and Brian now stand at the doorway.

“I’m serious, you two. Do not let us down,” and with that, Freddie shut the door and locked it.

“Well, that went bloody fantastic,” Roger said, turning to Brian.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Brian mumbled, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Oi, mate, don’t be like that,” Roger tried to sooth. He wasn’t very good at comforting people, “I’m not that much of a nightmare to spend time with.”

“It’s fine,” Brian said, already heading towards the entrance to the school.

Roger followed hurriedly. He didn’t speak as he and Brian walked out the front doors of Imperial college, and down the steps. It the occurred to Roger that he didn’t know where they were going. He didn’t even know if Brian wanted Roger to follow him.

When they got to what looked like Brian’s car, Roger stopped. He watched the taller boy slide into the driver’s seat and start the ignition. After a moment of hesitation, the front window rolled down.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get in,” Brian said, but quickly added, “If you don’t have any other plans, that is.”

Roger smiled a little as he made his way to the passenger side, “I’m free all afternoon.”

“Good,” Brian said, pulling out of the parking lot, “Are you hungry?”

“I can eat.”

Brian smiled at that, and it made Roger’s heart leap out of his chest. He quickly let it drop though, when he saw Roger staring at him.

“Oh, so he can smile?” Roger said, which earned a laugh from Brian. It came to Roger’s attention that maybe Brian wasn’t a bad bloke. It could be that he was the one with the problem. Roger thought about it on the way to wherever Brian was taking him. He got more upset with himself as time went on. By the time they reached their destination, a café with cute little pastries in the window display, Roger felt terrible.

Brian got out first, and Roger followed. They both walked through the door, into what looked like a café that sells homemade pastries and tea.

Brian smiled at Roger, “This is one of my favorite places to go.”

“A pastry shop?”

“They serve coffee and tea too. They also serve lunch items like sandwiches and burgers. You wouldn’t realize it, since they’re famous for their sweets, but they have the best veggie burgers in the city.”

“Oh,” Roger said, and followed Brian up to the counter.

“Hello, dears, what can I get you today?” the woman at the counter asked.

Brian ordered a veggie burger with a side of chips and a glass of water. Roger had ordered two raspberry tarts and a coffee. After ordering, they both made their way to a table near the window.

They sat there for a while in complete silence. Roger felt like he was on pins and needles. He folded his hands and looked down at the table in attempts to avoid awkward eye contact. When that eventually got boring, he looked up to see Brian scrolling through his phone. Roger wanted to smash it on the wall.

“You see,” Roger began, “usually when you ‘hang out’ with someone, you have a conversation with them. I bet I’m probably more interesting than whatever it is you’re reading on your phone.”

“Doubt it,” Brian muttered, not looking up from the screen.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem _at all_ the last time we had a conversation.”

Brian was about to say something when their food arrived. He thanked the waitress and then picked up his burger. He smiled a little as he took a big bite.

Roger watched him eat. He glanced down at his two desserts and wondered what Brian would do if he threw them at him. However, it occurred to Roger he’d get nowhere by just sitting there. He had to break the silence somehow. He decided to just be honest. If Brian left, or got angry with him, Roger would have at least known he tried.

“Brian, why did you invite me here?”

This made Brian look up in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“We’re supposed to be hanging out and talking about our issues. That’s the whole reason Freddie made us leave.”

“But we are hanging out.”

“No, we’re not,” Roger said a little heated, “You’ve just been sitting here ignoring me.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Well, first, try putting your fucking phone down.”

Brian glared at him, but begrudgingly turned it off anyway, “Now what, your Highness?”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You know, you have made my life very difficult over the past few weeks. Especially in the band.”

“Then quit,” Brian suggested.

“Fuck you. You quit,” Roger snapped.

“What an intelligent response, Roger,” Brian scoffed.

“What is your fucking problem?” Roger lowered his voice, careful not to draw attention to himself.

“You’re my problem. The fact you’ve just barged into my life-”

“Brian, I didn’t barge into your life. All of this,” he motioned between the two of them, “has been a weird coincidence. It’s not like I have this secret plan to fuck up your life.”

“I’m about to get kicked out of my band.”

“ _Our_ band,” Roger corrected him, “Also, don’t blame me for getting kicked from the band. You’re letting your problems with me, and that night, affect you.”

“Don’t, Roger,” Brian warned. His face had gone white.

“Don’t what, Brian? We have to talk about it eventually. It might as well be now.”

“It wasn’t anything,” Brian whispered.

“It was, or you wouldn’t be so upset about it. Listen, I’m not going to pry into your life, or your sexuality, or whatever. That’s your business.”

“Please stop, Roger.”

“I’m not finished speaking,” Roger said, his voice harsh. It made Brian flinch. “You need to get over yourself. What happened between us? It happened. It wasn’t a mistake, or a lapse in judgment. We did it together, and you need to acknowledge that. All you’ve done for the past few weeks is berate me, and It’s not fair. I get that you hate me, Brian. But, can you put that aside for a few minutes, and tell me what I did wrong?”

“Hate you? I…” Brian tried to speak but shut his mouth quickly. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at Roger, staring deep into his eyes, “I- I’m sorry, Roger.”

“What?” That wasn’t what Roger was expecting.

“You’re right,” his voice was shaky, “I’ve been quite nasty towards you, and I’m sorry. It’s just,” Brian took a few deep breaths, “This is something I’m dealing with, and I’m blaming you.”

“Why? What did I ever do to you?”

“It’s only ever been in my mind. Does that make sense? I never acted on those ‘feelings’ before. I always thought that they were just temporary, and that they’d go away when I met the right girl, but-,” Brian was getting choked up.

“Oh, Brian,” Roger said sympathetically, “You don’t have to tell me.” He realized now that pushing Brian to talk might have been a mistake.

Brian waved his hand dismissively, “It’s all right. Just, I’ve been having problems with Chrissie. After you, I can’t,” Brian blushed, “I can’t ‘perform’ anymore without thinking about…” Brian trailed off. He coughed awkwardly and then stared at the ground.

“Oh,” was all Roger said. What else could he say?

“I didn’t know it could ever feel that way. It’s a scary thing to think about. Now, with you in the band, it’s all I ever think about. What’s worse is it feels like you’re holding it over my head.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond. Had he really made Brian feel this way? It made him sick to think he’d been subconsciously trying to ‘out’ Brian, when obviously Brian had been having issues with this his whole life. _‘What can I say now?’_ He thought _, ‘I’m sorry, but I was just petty about not being able to sleep with you?’_ Roger spent all this time thinking, that Brian had it out for him, but he then realized he was treating Brian no better.

Brian noticed Roger’s discomfort. He smiled sadly as he wiped away his tears, “Roger, it’s all right. You didn’t know. Please, understand that I don’t hate you. You’ve made my life a living hell since you’ve joined the band, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either,” Roger said, and he mentally kicked himself. Was that really all he could say?

“That’s good,” Brian breathed.

“Is it all right if I leave?” Roger said abruptly. He needed to get out of there.

Brian blinked, “Sure? Are you not going to finish your sweets?”

Roger winced, getting up from the table, “Keep them. I’m not hungry anymore,” he said quickly, grabbing his jacket.

“Wait,” Brian said, “Did I do something wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It was. It is. I just… I need to go,” and with Roger walked away from the table. He busted out of the café, and into the chilly afternoon. He didn’t know where he was going. It definitely wouldn’t be home. Freddie and John were probably there, and they’d ask questions the moment Roger walked through the door. No, he needed to get away. He needed to be somewhere, anywhere that would get him away from Brian.

* * *

A couple weeks later at band practice, Roger sat behind his drum set, reading a magazine, while he and the rest of the group waited for Freddie.

He looked at Brian and saw he was listening to music. Roger caught his eye and smiled, and Brian smiled back. Apparently, he forgot about Roger running out on him a couple weeks ago. Well, maybe not forget, but he didn’t seem angry at Roger, which was a good sign.

Roger glanced over at John, who was writing in his notebook. Naturally curious, Roger left his drum set to see what the younger boy could have been writing. He peaked over John’s shoulder and it looked as if he was finishing up the lyrics to a song. The title up at the top of the page read ‘Misfire’.

“What the fuck is this?” Roger laughed, after reading about halfway down.

John spun around in his chair, nearly falling over, “Roger, what the hell?”

Roger was still giggling, “Is that our next number 1 hit single, John?”

“Shut up.”

Brian, who had taken off his headphones raised an eyebrow at the two boys, “What’s all this?”

“John’s been writing songs,” Roger said cheekily, and then snatched the notebook from John’s hands.

“Roger, hey! Give that back!”

Roger ran over to Brian, with John close on his tail. He handed it to Brian, who then lifted the notebook up, before John could grab it from his hands.

“Brian, give it,” John pleaded, trying to reach for the notebook.

Brian kept the notebook out of John’s reach, “C’mon now, Deaky. There’s no shame in sharing,” he said, trying to read, and keep John away at the same time.

“Give it now, Brian, or I will punch you in the stomach,” John warned.

“Oh my,” Brian said, not in response to John’s threat, but in response to the lyrics. He lowered his hand, and gave the notebook back to John, “You know there’s medication for that.”

John ripped the notebook out of Brian’s hand, “I don’t want to hear a word about this from either of you.”

“It’s very, uh… Honest?” Brian tried to reassure John, but it only seemed to make him angrier.

“It’s smut,” Roger said in an almost scandalized tone, “Such filthy lyrics. Think of the children!”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Ignore him, Deaky. However, if you need anyone to talk to,” he said, making Roger laugh.

John covered his blushing face with the notebook, “Please, can we talk about something else? Anything else.”

“I didn’t know Freddie was that _impatient_ ,” Roger said, completely ignoring John’s request to a subject change.

“It isn’t about Freddie,” John mumble, his face getting redder.

It took a moment for Roger and Brian to understand what that meant. When they realized, they both made an ‘o’ face of realization.

Roger patted John on the back, “It’s all right, mate. A lot of younger guys have issues with coming too quickly. Next time, try thinking of something gross to keep from blowing your load. Like back pimples, or your gran, but she’s only wearing her knickers.”

“Roger,” Brian made a face of discomfort, “please stop talking,” he faced John, “The song is good. I’d add more lyrics though. Seems a little short.”

Roger snickered, causing Brian to glare at him.

“The song is fine the way it is.”

“How long is it?” Roger asked.

“About a minute and fifty seconds.”

Both Roger and Brian burst into a fit of giggles.

“Fuck you guys.”

“Can we time it?” Brian asked, which made Roger laugh even harder.

John balled up his fists, “You both are terrible.”

Suddenly, the door swings open and Freddie walked in, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” John said quickly, crossing the room to give Freddie a kiss, “Where have you been?”

Freddie grinned excitedly, “You’ll never believe what I did?”

“What is it, Fred?” Brian had stopped laughing, and now was listening intently to what Freddie had to say.

“Darlings, I got us a gig.”


	4. Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I know I said I would have the chapter up like a week ago. I'm sorry. I thought i'd be able to get it done quickly, but i was wrong. Anyway, here's the next chapter!

“Again,” said Freddie.

“Again? Freddie, my damn arms are about to fall off!” Roger exclaimed, setting his sticks down. He then rubbed his shoulder.

“Maybe we should take a break,” John said, “What say you, Brian?”

No response.

“Brian? Brian!”

Brian’s head swiveled around to meet John’s, “Yes? Yes, we should take a break.”

“Fucking finally,” Roger groaned as he pushed down on his shoulder, “I’m going to really feel this tomorrow.”

Brian slid his guitar off his shoulders and grabbed the water bottle next to him on the ground. He drank rapidly, taking in big gulps like he was dehydrated. Once he had enough, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then took a seat next to John, who was resting on the floor.

It had been almost a week of endless practicing, and the boys were feeling it. Freddie had insisted they rehearse nonstop until their gig, which was located at one of the more popular pubs in London. He was convinced that if they played well at this gig, then the proprietors would tell other venues. Word gets around, and they’re on their way to becoming full-fledged rock stars, or at least, that’s how Freddie had put it.

Brian wasn’t exactly looking for fame. He viewed the band as a hobby, an escape from his rigorous study habits. Sure, he wanted to be successful, and he wouldn’t mind making money from it. However, he wasn’t expecting rock stardom, or international success anytime soon. Freddie, however, made it sound possible. Freddie was good at that, Brian realized. Freddie made anything seem like it was only within arm’s reach, and he had the drive to achieve it too. Brian admired that.

At that moment, Brian leaned his head against the wall, resting his eyes. Despite the constant adrenaline Freddie radiated, he was absolutely beat. His fingers felt as if they would fall off, and his arms were heavy. If they didn’t take at least a day off, they’d all be too exhausted to play on Friday. They had gone over their set an ungodly amount of times. If they weren’t perfect, they would have to start all over again. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Roger, every thought in his mind vanishing. Roger was something else that plagued his mind entirely.

He watched the blond boy rub his shoulder, rubbing deep circles, head bowed, shaggy hair falling over his face. Brian suddenly looked away when he heard roger moan a little. None of the others seemed to notice. He bit his lip. _‘Stop it, Brian,’_ he thought to himself.

He couldn’t help it. Since their night at the pub, Brian couldn’t think of anything other than that night, and how Roger looked like a debauched angel sucking him off. It had gotten so bad; he couldn’t even get it up with Chrissie unless he pictured Roger in her place. That was what made him feel most guilty.

Brian knew it had to stop. That’s why he was so cross with Roger at first, but he realized Roger had nothing to do with it. He was the one who was screwed up. However, Brian had to admit it had gotten better, he and Roger were ok. His relationship was going smoothly. As long as he didn’t mess anything up, and as long as he kept those feelings down, he’d be all right. He had to be.

Brian glanced back up at Roger, who had now taken his shirt off.

_‘Well shit.’_

Roger stretched his arm over his head, and he looked at Brian, “Enjoying the view?”

Brian’s cheeks blazed, “Do you have to take off your shirt?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s the middle of November.”

“I’ve been playing the drums for three hours.”

“Not everyone wants to see you shirtless.”

Roger pouted, “I sure was under that assumption. Hey, Fred!” Roger called out, making the dark-haired boy look up from his notes, “Do you think I look good with my shirt off?”

Freddie gave him a sly smile, “Roger, you little minx. If I wasn’t already dating the most beautiful, and most wonderful boy in the world,” he winked at John, “I’d ravish you right here on the floor, with or without your shirt.”

“John?”

“I don’t care what you do, Roger,” John said, not wanting to take part in Roger’s little game.

Roger gave Brian a playful smirk, “There you have it. The shirt stays off. I guess you’ll just have to be blessed by staring at the eighth wonder of the world. Life is hard, I know.”

“You’re such a fucking jackass,” Brian muttered.

Roger smirked and stretched his arm a little too far, causing it to cramp up, “Ow fuck!” he yelped, his smile contorting into a pained expression.

Brian smiled at that. It was the little things, he guessed.

Freddie sighed, “All right, dearies, time’s up. It’s back to work.”

The other three groaned.

“If you keep working us like this, we’re not even going to make it to the bloody gig,” Roger snapped.

“One more time, and then we can all go home.”

Brian nodded, getting up from his spot. He went over to pick up his guitar, “All right, so we start out with Doing All Right.”

John strummed a few chords on his base, “Then Ogre Battle, and then My Fairy King.”

“Right,” Freddie confirmed, “and then we’ll finish off with Keep Yourself Alive.”

Roger let out an annoyed huff, “Let’s get on with it then. I have a date later tonight.”

Brian felt a sudden urge of jealousy rip through him. It happened so quickly, it frightened him. He shook it off though and tried to think about something else.

“Don’t worry, blondie. You’ll make your date,” Freddie grinned.

“Oh, sod off,” Roger grumbled, picking up his sticks.

Freddie ignored him as he stood up to the mic, “All right, ladies, let’s hit it! A one, two, three, four!”

* * *

In a perfect world, Brian would be able to control every aspect of his life.

If anything went wrong for any reason, he’d be able to snap his fingers and it would all be right again. No more of life being a daily chore, and no more minor inconveniences. Little events that could ruin your whole day. It would be total control. Yes, it would be a perfect world. However, Brian knew that would never be possible. He was fine with that. What he didn’t expect, was not being able to control his own thoughts, his own body. The one thing he could control, and it was ripped away from him in one drunken night.

He sat apprehensively on the edge of his bed. His pants and underwear pulled down to ankles, making himself feel exposed to the world. His right hand fisted his cock, furiously trying to get any reaction out of it. His other hand held a playboy magazine. One of many he had purchased from an adult bookstore a few blocks down.

The waxy paper crumpled in his tight grip, as he had been holding it for ten minutes now. There had been a few magazines before it, none of which provided the desired result. In total Brian had been masturbating for an hour and he was getting nowhere. He might as well give up now before he embarrassed himself any further. Besides, his wrist was starting to hurt.

In a sudden burst of anger, Brian let out a cry and hurled the magazine towards the opposite wall. He flopped back onto the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He’d never been one to turn to porn, but he was desperate. Brian tried watching videos, but his eyes would always stay put on the guy. He’d feel his face heat up when he thought of all the ways he could make the guy in the video moan like that. How he could make Roger moan like that. It was too much, and that’s why he turned to pictures. He thought that maybe he’d find something he’d like. Some hidden kink that would spark interest, any interest in a woman’s breasts, or her ass, but to no avail. It made his stomach churn, because he knew there was no coming back from it this time.

He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a child. When he’d be afraid of changing in front of the other boys during gym. When he’d stare too long at one of his fellow schoolmates, clearly longer than what should have been allowed. A time when he was so unsure of the new and unexplained feelings deep within him. A time when he hadn’t experienced true heartache. A time when Daniel was in his life.

Brian’s mind stopped working all together. That name. It was a name he didn’t like to think about often, but when he did the memories couldn’t be stopped. It was a painful name to think about. He knew somewhere Daniel was looking down on him in shame. A deep sorrow filled his chest. It was a name associated with the past, and he didn’t want to remember.

Brian sighed, sitting up right. He then stood up, pulling his underwear and trousers up to button them. Feeling defeated, he walked over to where he had thrown the magazine and picked it up. The half-naked woman on the cover stared him down with a sultry gaze. It was as if she was mocking him.

It was as if Brian could hear the woman say, “I have everything you want, love, but you’ll never be able to enjoy it.” He felt the sudden urge to chuck it again. That thought, however, was put on hold when Brian heard the front door open and shut. Chrissie must have been home.

“Brian, I’m home,” A feminine voice called out, “Where are you?”

In a panic Brian grabbed the other magazines, and tossed them under the bed, along with the one he was currently holding in his hand. He got up on the bed and grabbed the book he was currently reading from his nightstand. He flipped to some random page and got into a comfortable position.

“Bedroom,” He called out to her.

Within moments Chrissie opened the door and walked in, “Hey,” she smiled, setting her stuff down on the bed. She bent down and kissed Brian on the lips, which he accepted urgently.

“Missed you,” he panted, once they broke apart, “How was work?”

“Terrible, as usual,” Chrissie sighed, sitting down next to Brian. She glanced over at the book he was reading, “1984, huh?”

Brian nodded, “You read it?”

“Yeah, in School. What part are you at? Have you gotten to the part where they introduce Julia?”

Brian knitted his brow, “Whose Julia?”

“I’ll take that as a no. It’s the girl with dark hair. The one who Winston thinks keeps following him.”

“The girl he hates?”

Chrissie snickers, “Yeah, for now anyways. Later in the book they…” she paused for a moment, “That’s actually a bit of a spoiler. I’m sorry.”

Brian glanced up at her thoughtfully, and closed the book, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get to it eventually.”

Chrissie nodded, scooting next to Brian. She laid her head on his chest and moved her hand to play with his hair, “What are your plans for the night?”

“Freddie invited me to game night at his flat.”

“That sounds nice.”

“You should come,” Brian said, as he wrapped his arm around her, “Mary and Jim will be there.”

“Can’t,” she sighed, “I’m visiting my parents tonight, remember?”

Brian didn’t remember, but he nodded his head like he did anyway.

“Speaking of which, we have another dinner with them Saturday. You’ll be all right to go, right? I know you have a gig on Friday.”

Brian gave a tight-lipped smile. He remembered the last time he had dinner with Chrissie’s parents. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. He and her parents were vastly different from each other, and Brian knew what they thought of him. He knew they thought their daughter was too good for him. Regardless of the dread Brian felt, he just continued to smile, “Wouldn’t miss it, love.”

“I can’t wait to see you play. I bet you all sound great. Freddie told me about your new drummer. Is it Roger?”

Brian’s gut twisted at the mention of his name, “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Freddie says he’s some kind of rock and roll genius. You must be so happy to have found him.”

“Yep, Roger has just been a blessing,” Brian muttered.

Chrissie giggled, “You’re funny, Brian.”

Brian couldn’t help smiling at that, “And you’re beautiful,” he said. He brushed her hair behind her ear. It felt nice to be with Chrissie like this. Having a cuddle on a nice day. It made Brian feel like he was doing something right. If only he could stop thinking of a certain blond headed boy that plagued his every waking thought.

A few hours later Brian left for Freddie’s flat. Bundled up in a jacket and scarf, he let himself into the building, entering the musky, damp, ground floor. He climbed the stairs and cursed the maintenance crew of the building for not fixing the lift.

When he got to the door, Brian let himself in. He saw that Freddie, John, Mary, and Jim had started playing without him.

“You’re late,” Freddie called out in a sing song voice.

Brian took off his jacket and scarf and threw them on the couch, “I’m only twenty minutes late. You started without me?”

“We started drinking without you too,” John said with a playful smile.

Brian went over to the table to see what they had started playing. It was a domino game called Mexican Train. Brian’s played a few times before.

“We tried to make them wait for you, Brian,” Mary said, not taking her eyes of her dominoes.

“It’s all right, Mary,” Brian said, taking a seat next to Jim. He gave Jim a warm smile, “Hello, Jim. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been around,” the dark-haired boy said gently.

“We all miss you coming around practice,” Brian said, mostly because it was true, but he was also trying to make polite conversation. He soon regretted it when he felt the air in the room shift. He looked around to see Freddie staring at the floor, and John was fiddling with a domino in his hand. Mary gave Brian a look. It was like she was saying, ‘Oh, now you’ve done it.’

It wasn’t always this awkward. Of course, Brian assumed it had to be difficult for Freddie, having his boyfriend and ex-boyfriend in the same room together for the first time. Freddie and Jim had broken up two months before John had joined the band. Freddie stayed friends with Jim, like he did most of his exes. Mary being another example, but she was sort of a special case.

Brian felt like an idiot for not being able to read the room before. When he had walked in, no one was talking, but everyone was drinking. It was like Brian had found himself on a sinking ship, and he just sunk it. Now, he had to get out of this conversation without drowning, “So,” he said, “Where’s Roger?”

Freddie rolled his eyes, “He’s in his room.”

“I tried to get him to come out, but he said he wanted to be left alone,” John said.

“He’s just hiding, because Mary and Jim are here,” Freddie turned to John, “He’s awfully shy around new people, believe it or not. He’s been in there all day though, and I’m starting to get worried about him.”

This revelation was a shock to Brian. Roger had always seemed very outgoing to him. Maybe there was more to Roger than Brian thought. After a moments silence, Brian spoke up, “I can go check on him.”

“You?” both John and Freddie asked at the same time. They both gave each other pensive looks, which pissed Brian off to no end.

“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”

“Dear, Roger is in a really weird place right now. Emotionally, I mean.”

“You don’t get on with Roger very well, Brian,” John said in a soft voice. It always interested Brian how John could be so assertive at band meetings, but outside anywhere else he was very calm, and gentle.

“We just don’t want him to get angrier,” Freddie reasoned, “You understand, right?”

Brian glared at them as he pushed away from the table, got up, and then pushed his chair back in. He stalked over to where Roger’s bedroom door was and knocked. He waited a moment, and then knocked harder again when he hadn’t gotten a reply.

“Bloody fuck, what do you want?” A groggy voice asked from the other side of the door.

“It’s Brian, Roger. Open up.”

“Fuck off.”

Brian tried the door handle, like he expected, it was locked.

“Brian, let it go. Stop bothering him,” Mary groaned.

Brian knocked again, and again. Loud and fast, he repeatedly hit the door before it final opened.

Roger stood in front of him, clothes disheveled, like he had been sleeping in them. His eyes were red and puffy, “All right,” he snapped, “What is it?”

The ability to speak left Brian immediately. He’d never seen Roger look this sorry before.

“Well? Fucking spit it out, May.”

“Have you been crying?” Brian asked in disbelief.

“No, I haven’t been crying. Where on earth did you get that idea from?”

“Your eyes. They’re all red.”

Roger bit his lip and looked away, “I have allergies. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“Roger, are you ok? Freddie says you’ve been in your room all day.”

“So, what if I have?” Roger sniffed, “I’m fine, Brian. You can tell Freddie I’m all right too,” he went to shut the door, but Brian blocked it with his foot.

“Roger, you can always talk to me,” Brian said with a small reassuring smile.

Roger stared up at him. He smiled back for a moment, but then a genuine look of concern spread across his face. His eyes dropped and he shook his head. In a small voice, he said, “Move your foot, Brian.”

Brian did, not wanting to upset Roger more. When the door shut, Brian stood there for a second, wondering if he should try to talk to Roger again. Brian shook his head, _‘If Roger wants to tell me, he will’._

Brian made his way back to the table. The other four were staring back at him.

“Well?” John asked.

“He says he’s fine.”

John stared Brian down, like he was trying to get a read on him, “You don’t believe that he is,” he said finally.

“I think we should just leave him alone for now.”

As if on cue, Roger emerged from his room. He was wearing his leather jacket and red scarf.

“Going somewhere?” Freddie questioned, watching Roger head for the front door.

“Out,” was all Roger said, and then he opened the door and left.

“I don’t like this,” Freddie said gravely once Roger had shut the door behind him.

Brian shook his head, and looked at the game on the table, “Are we starting the next round?”

* * *

It was two-forty-seven in the morning when Brian’s phone rang. He was asleep.

He had his arm around Chrissie, his face buried into her hair. In the back of his mind he knew he heard ringing, but his brain wasn’t making the connection.

“Brian,” Chrissie said, her voice laced with sleep, “your phone.”

Brian tightened his grip and muffled a response in her hair. Who the hell was calling him at two in the morning?

The phone rang a few more times until Brian heard Chrissie finally answer it.

“Hello?” she mumbled, still half asleep, “This is his girlfriend. Who’s this?” She asked. A moment passed and then she said, “He’s right here. Hold on,” she held the phone out behind her, “It’s your band mate.”

Brian backed up and rubbed his eyes, “Band mate?”

“Roger.”

Brian was suddenly wide awake. After what happened at Freddie’s earlier, he was sure Roger wanted nothing more than to never talk to Brian again. He hastily reached for his cellphone, “Hello, Roger?”

_“Brian,”_ Roger slurred a little.

“Roger, where did you go? You worried Freddie and John half to death.”

_“Brian, I need you to come pick me up.”_

“You what?”

_“Brian, please. I was at a pub and I got into a fight. They kicked me out, and I don’t feel like riding the tube home.”_

“Roger,” Brian sighed, “you do realize it’s almost three?”

_“Brian, please, I’m scared.”_

“Scared? Roger, what’s going on?”

_“Come pick me up, Brian, please,”_ a small sob came from Roger.

Brian was already out of bed, and getting his clothes on when he asked, “Where are you?”

“Brian, what’s going on?” Chrissie was sitting up now too.

Brian ignored her while he listed to Roger give him directions, “All right,” he said after a while, “I’ll be right there. Just stay where you are,” he slipped the phone in his pocket and then grabbed his keys.

“Brian?” Chrissie said again.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Roger got into a fight at some pub and he wants me to drive him home.”

“Want me to come with you?”

Brian looked back at Chrissie, who was standing up now. He watched her walk over to him and hug him. He hugged her back, “Nah, you stay here. Keep the bed warm.”

Chrissie nodded, “All right, be safe,” she said.

Brian kissed her on top of the head, “Aren’t I always?”

Chrissie rolled her eyes as he turned around and went out the front door.

It didn’t take long to get to where Roger was. The pub he described, was about ten minutes from his flat. When Brian arrived, he hastily parked in the parking lot, and then got out to look for Roger.

He scanned the area and couldn’t find him, “Roger!” Brian called out, praying the blond didn’t wander off. He waited a moment and called again. He was about to call a third time, when he spotted a small figure sitting on a bench across the street. Brian ran up to it, hoping it was Roger.

“Roger, there you are,” Brian said, once he had gotten close enough to see that it was in fact him.

Roger was sitting quietly on the bench. His eyes staring dejectedly into his lap. His face was somewhat hidden, but Brian could see a small cut on his cheek, and a black eye starting to form.

“Roger?” Brian gently put his hand to Roger’s chin, lifting it so he could see his face, “Oh my god,” he whispered.

“Is it bad?”

Brian studied Roger’s face. He had the cut, and the black eye, as Brian had already seen. Now, that he could see him better, Roger had a busted lip and a bruise on the side of his jaw.

“Brian?”

“Who the hell did you piss off so badly?”

Roger jerked his chin away from Brian’s hand, “Some dumb fuck, who didn’t know how to mind his own business. He was going on about something, I don’t know. I think it was political, but I don’t remember what he said. Well, I told him to shut the hell up. He started making fun of my hair, and said I looked like a fairy. So, I told him I was, and then punched him in the mouth. We got into it, and then they kicked us out.”

“Is he still around?” Brian asked in an angry, almost defensive tone.

“No, I don‘t think so. I saw him leave with a couple blokes about twenty minutes ago. I called you because I’m drunk, and I’m scared to go off on my own. What if he’s waiting for me somewhere?”

“If he is, I won’t let him hurt you.”

“He’s pretty big. He’d snap you like a twig,” Roger said, hugging himself.

Brian tried not to get angry at that as he sat down next to Roger on the bench. He looked up at the night sky, soaking in their peacefulness. They both sat there in silence. After a while Brian heard Roger speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For calling you and waking you up. I woke your girlfriend up too. She sounds very nice.”

“She is.”

“I’ve been a prick.”

“It’s no different than normal.”

“Do you wanna know why?”

Brian looked at him in curiosity, “Does it have anything to do with how you were acting earlier?”

“Yes.”

“Is it about the date you had?”

“Date?”

“You said last practice you were going on a date.”

Roger stayed quiet for a moment, looking perplex. He then shook his head, realizing what Brian was talking about, “She wasn’t anything. She just wanted me for a good fuck, which is fine because the feeling was mutual.”

“What is it then?”

“My ex-girlfriend, Dominique,” he said so softly, that the noise from the passing cars almost drowned him out, “She’s getting married.”

“Oh,” Brian looked away. He hadn’t expected Roger to be heartbroken. He seemed like the kind of guy that broke hearts. The fact that he was on the reciprocating side, made Brian feel bad for him.

“I gave up everything for her. I can’t even show my face in my own home town,” Roger was crying now. His teeth were clenched in a sorrowful rage, “She was supposed to come with me to London. She was supposed to run away with me, but now…” he stood up suddenly, “NOW, SHE’S MARRYING AN ABUSIVE ARSHOLE!” Roger screamed up at the night sky. It was like he was cursing the heavens.

“Roger,” Brian stood up as well, trying to calm the other boy down.

“I gave her my life, and she ruined it! She used me as some shitty rebound! Fuck her!” he screamed and kicked the bench hard. He continued to kick it, getting all of his frustration out.

“Roger, stop!” Brian growled, trying to grab him.

“Who do you love?! Who do you love?!” Roger roared, kicking still, despite Brian’s best efforts to pull him back. Roger eventually lost his footing and fell back onto the sidewalk. Luckily, he didn’t hit his head.

“Oh shit,” Brian rushed to help Roger to his feet.

Roger tried to pull away, but Brian held onto him tight. Eventually, he gave up fighting, and let Brian hold him. He buried his face in Brian’s shoulder and began to sob.

“Shh,” Brian soothed, petting Roger’s hair, “It’s going to be ok. You’ll feel better in the morning. Well, it already is morning, isn’t it? Later this afternoon then.”

Roger wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, pulling him closer.

Brian didn’t seem to mind, as he kept petting Roger. This went on for a minute, and then Brian pulled away, “Better?”

Roger let go, and then on shaky legs, stumbled back towards the bench. When he sat down, he put his face in his hands, “I fucked up,” he muttered.

Brian sat down next to him again, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I fucked up. I fucked up my relationship with everyone, because I couldn’t keep my dick in my trousers. I did that. I ruined everything myself. My relationship with my old band, my father, Dom,” he looked up to meet Brian’s worried eyes, “and you.”

“Me?”

“When we first met, I tried to get with you, and I knew you were in a relationship. You told me, remember?”

“I remember.”

“I didn’t care, and I fucking should have.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve made you feel like I hold what we did over your head, and I’m sorry. I was angry you snubbed me, and I did it without realizing. I should have told you that at the café, but I was too chickenshit.”

Brian sighed, “Roger, it’s fine.”

“I almost did the same thing to you, like I did to her. I’m so sorry, Brian,” Roger rested his head on Brian’s shoulder.

Brian couldn’t have guessed what Roger was insinuating, but it must have been pretty drastic. Whatever he did to this Dominique, must have really messed him up. Brian thought of a way to comfort the crying boy on his shoulder, but all he could offer was his forgiveness, and he did.

“I accept your apology, Roger,” Brian gave Roger’s arm a reassuring pat, “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Roger let Brian help him up, and then they walked back to Brian’s car together.

The ride to Freddie’s was quiet, with neither of them saying a word. When they arrived at the flat, Brain helped Roger up the stairs. He was now seriously considering just fixing the lift himself. Brian didn’t bother knocking when he and Roger got to the door. He knew Freddie had to be up, and that the door would be unlocked. He opened the door, and let himself in.

“Roger, is that you?” Almost immediately, Freddie came rushing out of his room, with John close behind. They both stopped short, when they saw Brian, holding Roger up.

“Roger, what happened to your face?” John said, hurrying over to where the two boys were standing.

“He got into a fight,” Brian explained.

“I’ll be fine,” Roger said dismissively.

“A fight?” Freddie was now at Roger’s side too, “With who?”

“Some arsehole at the pub. Roger called me to drive him here, so he didn’t have to walk back alone.”

“You could have called us,” Freddie said in a hurt tone.

“I didn’t want you to get angry with me.”

“Roger, we wouldn’t have,” John said.

“S’all right. I called Brian, because he’s a loser, and I knew he wasn’t doing anything,” Roger said with a half-cocked smile, making Brian roll his eyes. Roger moved over to Freddie and John and gave them both a hug, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Freddie lingered in the hug a little longer than John, carding his fingers through Roger’s unruly hair, “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” Freddie whispered in his ear, and Roger nodded in response.

Brian pretended he didn’t hear what Freddie had said. It was an intimate moment between the two, and he felt like somewhat of an intruder. He looked over at John and saw a look of hurt on his face, though it was unclear whether it was because of the state Roger was in, or how much attention Freddie was giving him.

Roger pulled away, and then looked at Brian, “Take me to bed?”

“What?!”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Help me to my bed. I’m still a bit pissed.”

Brian helped Roger to his room, ignoring the curious looks he got from John and Freddie. They made their way to Roger’s bed. Brian tried not to look when Roger was stepping out of his trousers.

“Help,” Roger said, when he had gotten to his shirt.

Brian glanced over at him, “What?”

“Y’know, you say that word a lot. Help me get my shirt off.”

“I, uh…”

“Dear god, Brian. I’m having trouble. Help me get it off,” Roger growled impatiently.

Brian grumbled to himself, as he started to yank Roger’s shirt over his head, “Can’t take your own damn shirt off. I know you’re not that drunk.”

“Ow, Brian! I’m not a rag doll.”

“Stay still.”

Roger did so as Brian successfully got the shirt over his head.

Brian tossed the shirt on the floor. He looked back at Roger, and he realized something. He’d never seen Roger in just his underwear. Brian’s eyes scanned Roger’s toned arms, and then rested on the little pudge of his stomach. His legs, his feet, his face, his skin, Brian drank in the beauty that was Roger Taylor. He tried not to, he really tried. He’d never seen someone so beautiful in his life, he couldn’t help thinking about all the ways he could wreck Roger on his bed.

Roger stared back at him; his face illuminated by the hallway light. His eyes were dark, “Help me get into bed?”

Brian didn’t say a word. He pulled the covers back and watched Roger fall in. When he saw that Roger was in a comfortable spot, he pulled the blankets over him.

Brian felt like it was his cue to leave. He turned around to leave but was stopped when something wrapped around his wrist. He looked back. It was Roger.

Roger held onto Brian’s wrist, “Stay with me?”

“Roger.”

“Please.”

Brian was tempted, but then he thought of another person who was waiting in bed for him. Brian knew that he couldn’t. He thought about Chrissie, and what Roger said before. He knew Roger felt bad about getting with a man in a relationship. This wouldn’t have been what he wanted if he was sober.

Brian shook his head, and a sad smile appeared on his lips, “No, Roger, I can’t. You understand why, right?”

Roger let go and was quiet for a moment, but then said, “Yes,” his dejected eyes flicking up to meet Brian’s, “goodnight, Brian.”

“Goodnight, Roger,” Brian said, and then walked out of the room, leaving the blond to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say really quick that, no, I am not making Dominique a villain in this story. I also refuse to do that to Chrissie, Veronica, and Mary in this story and any other of my future works.


	5. Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter is long overdue. Just a warning, I didn't proof read this chapter. I wanted to get it out today, coincidentally I got my wisdom teeth taken out this morning, and I'm in a lot of pain, and I just want to get this chapter out. I've been fucking with this chapter for over a month, and I just want to move on to the next one lol. I just want to say thank you for your patience, and I'm happy you guys are excited about Brian and Roger becoming friends, and bonding. That being said, I apologize in advance for this chapter.

Roger could think of a lot of ways he could spend his Thursday morning. He could have been studying, or hanging out with friends, etc. Instead, he was sitting in a cramped office with John, Freddie, and Brian. Listening to some middle-aged bloke basically tell them they were getting canned.

It had been a total surprise. They had gotten the call to come speak to the manager of the pub they were playing at. They knew Freddie had gotten them the gig by chance. He had been out drinking and overheard someone in despair about a band quitting on them last minute. He ended up showing a video of one of their rehearsals to the manager and that was that. Now, they were being fired.

Roger looked over at Brian. He was twiddling with his necklace. Roger had noticed Brian always did that when he was nervous or upset, and it was always the same necklace, a bronze peace symbol. Roger was convinced he had never taken it off.

Brian glanced over at Roger and caught him staring, making Roger turn away, and focus on what Freddie was trying to say.

What do you mean we’re out?” Freddie asked incredulously.

The man just shrugged, “It means what it means. You’re out.”

“But you said we had the gig. we’ve been practicing all week.”

The man rolled his eyes, “Look, it isn’t that hard to understand. The band we originally booked canceled, but now they’re wanting their spot back.”

“Well tell them they can’t fucking have it,” Roger snapped.

“You promised us. We have friends and family coming to see us play,” John tried to reason.

“I promised you when I didn’t have a band, and now I do. Sorry guys, it’s business.”

“This is bollocks,” Brian said.

“Sorry, but they’re more experienced. They’ve played here about twelve times, and I haven’t even heard of you guys. So, what does that tell me?”

“I showed you footage of us playing. You said we were good!” Freddie countered.

“You were as good as any other college band in London. You only got this gig because I was desperate, and you got to me first. Now, that I have my main act back, I don’t need you. Look, play at some other places first, and then come back when you’ve gotten a few years under your belt. Maybe then I’ll let you perform here, but for now, go back to playing coffee shop and family gatherings. Leave this to the professionals.

“We are professional!” Roger said.

“Try giving us a chance,” Brian pleaded. His voice was tiny and desperate.

The man shook his head, “This place is known for our live entertainment, and I worked hard to keep it that way. I didn’t get here by taking chances. Let me ask you this. Would you rather listen to a band you’ve already seen perform, or a band you’ve never heard? These guys, they drawl people in. People like to know what their getting.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Roger said.

Freddie, who hadn’t said anything for a while, spoke up, “What if we open for them? We won’t play our entire set. Just two songs. If they like us maybe you could hire us for a full gig.”

“No can do. I open for all our performances. I do about a ten-minute comedy act.”

“You can’t be serious,” Roger laughed.

Freddie put his head in his hands. John and Brian gave each other a look of exasperation.

“Dear, we can give you ten times a better show,” Freddie said.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s a bit selfish,” John said, getting miffed “Opening for every act, that is. Why not let upcoming bands open for a change?”

“That’s not how we do it. Besides, no one has ever complained.”

“Well, this pub isn’t really known for its comedy shows,” Brian said in a surprisingly condescending tone.

“You’re really that delusional. You really think people come here to see your shitty subpar stand-up act? Look, you promised us we could play tomorrow night. You shouldn’t just toss us aside, because the fuckwits that bailed on you in the first place want their spot back,” Roger said.

The manager smiled wickedly and leaned in, “I think we’re done here. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Dejectedly, the boys left. First Fred, Brian, Roger, and then John. They shuffled out of the tiny office. When the door shut behind them, they stood around not really knowing what else to do. They had told virtually everyone they were playing this gig tonight, and now, the day before the show, it was ripped away from them.

Roger studied the looks on his band mate’s faces. It was an unsavory sight. What once held bright and enthusiastic expressions were now teary-eyed faces of grief. Roger looked over to Freddie who seemed lost, and then at John who looked vengeful. Finally, he stared up at Brian, who’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He looked scared, angry, and in disbelief of what had just happened.

“We were so close,” Brian whispered.

“It’s my fault,” Roger said, “I shouldn’t have baited him like I did.”

“It isn’t your fault, Roger. I’m the one who got us into this in the first place,” Freddie said.

“It isn’t anyone’s fault,” John grumbled, “We just need to keep working hard. We’ll get another opportunity.”

Brian put his hands down to his sides. His fists were bunched up in rage, “This isn’t fair. We all worked so hard.”

“It’s ok, Brian,” Roger tried to put his arms around the other boy’s shoulder’s, but Brian shrugged him off.

“You don’t get it. We told so many people to come watch us play.”

“They’ll understand, dear,” Freddie said.

Brian stared down at the floor, “My dad promised he’d come see us,” he looked back up at the other three, “He hadn’t been too thrilled when I told him I was starting a band. He thought it would distract me from my studies, but when I told him we had a real gig, he was happy for me. I thought I’d finally gotten through to him.”

“Oh, Brian,” Freddie said, reaching out to Brian.

“Now it’s all ruined,” he muttered, dodging Freddie’s attempt to pacify him. He rushed towards the front door, and slammed it when he exited the pub.

“Brian, wait,” Freddie called, running towards the exit to catch up with Brian.

Roger’s heart felt like it plummeted to his stomach as he watched Brian and Freddie leave. He couldn’t help but feel like he caused this. If he hadn’t been so cheeky with the manager, they might have been able to work something out, but no. Roger couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for one fucking moment, and now they were all suffering because of it. Brian was suffering because of it.

Roger looked back at the manager’s office. He weighed the options in his head, and he knew what he had to do. If he couldn’t talk the band’s way into the show, maybe he could try something else.

“Roger?” John said, snapping Roger out of deep thought, “You coming?” He was already at the front door.

“In a minute,” Roger said, “I have to use the restroom.”

John nodded, and then stepped outside.

Roger stood there a moment. His eyes shifted nervously from the front door to the office door, and he wondered if all of this was really worth what he was about to do. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. It was a usual tactic he and his old band would use when they wanted to book gigs, but that was another lifetime ago. Plus, he didn’t know how the others would react.

_‘They won’t find out. What’s the harm?’_

Roger pondered on that. It wasn’t like he was doing it out of selfishness. They all worked incredibly hard for this gig, and it wasn’t fair that it was basically ripped away from them. If Roger was able to get their gig back, Brian’s dad could still come to the show. Roger knew what is was like to yearn for a father’s approval. So, in a way, he was saving a father and son’s relationship. And, if he had to keep quiet about the entire deal, then so be it.

With a sigh, Roger turned back towards the office door. He knocked three times on the beaten down old wooden door. His heart thumped in time with the sound of his knuckles hitting the wood. He waited a moment, and then he heard a gruff voice.

“Come in.”

Roger let himself in. He walked up to the manager; his eyes downcast.

The manager, who was typing something on his desktop computer, looked up at Roger with suspicious eyes, “You’re back, eh?”

Roger didn’t say a word.

“Come back to insult me some more?”

Roger still stayed silent but raised his eyes to look at the man in front of him.

“Oh, I bet you came back to convince me to give you your spot back. Huh, is that it? Well you can forget it.”

Roger clicked his tongue. He tried to keep his anger in check, “I came to apologize. So, I want to say I’m sorry. I realize that I might have said some things that could have upset you, and-”

“Save it, pretty boy. You think I give a fuck about your sympathy?”

“It wasn’t fair how you did me and my mates,” Roger said point blank. He realized now that saying sorry wasn’t going to work. He needed to be blunt.

“I told you. That is just how show business works.”

“Well, I have a proposition for you.”

The manager laughed, “I don’t want anything from you. Now, piss off.”

Roger smirked and placed his hands on the desk. He leaned in close enough to smell the smoke on the other man’s breath, “I think I do have something you want.”

The manager was silent. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

Roger moved back and walked around the side of the desk. He let his hands gently glide over the smooth surface as he gets close to the manger’s ear, “I’ve seen you watching me. Even when we first walked in, I saw you. You were sitting here at your desk. I could tell you were undressing me with your eyes. I bet you thought about bending me over this desk. Dirty boy,” Roger purred. He almost wanted to gag at the words that were coming out of his mouth. However, he reminded himself that this was for the band.

“Am I that transparent?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Roger whispered, and then bit down gently on his earlobe.

“Is this your little proposition, love? Fuck me, and you think I’ll give you your spot back?” he was quiet for a moment, “It’s a done deal you know? I can’t cancel. Maybe I’ll let you open for them”

Roger laughed a little, “Sex? For a ten-minute gig? I don’t think so. I’ll give you a hand job.”

The manager grabbed Roger’s chin, so they were facing each other. His eyes were dark, and dangerous. He let his thumb run over the edge of Roger’s mouth, “Tell me, baby, how bad do you want this gig? What about a blowjob?”

Roger scoffed, jerking his chin away. He walked back over to where the door was, “I’m not a street whore. This isn’t a negotiation; I make the terms. Hand job, or I walk,” he said, his hand on the doorknob.

Roger could tell the other man was thinking about his offer. He waited patiently until the manager sighs, and ushers Roger over to where he sat.

Roger grinned, _‘Got him.’_

“You know, you’re a real pain in the ass,” he said when Roger made his way back over to the desk.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Roger said, positioning himself in front of the manager, “Spread your legs,” he got a little closer, and then waited. Roger watched as the manager unzipped his pants and pulled himself out of his jeans. He stood there.

“Well?”

Roger grimaced as he took the half hard cock in his hand. He pumped it a few times, which elicited a few moans. A few more seconds in and Roger read a clang from outside.

“What was that?” he said, stopping instantly.

“Calm down. It’s probably just maintenance. Keep going.”

Roger visibly relaxed and started up again.

* * *

“I did it. You can all stop wallowing in your self-pity. I just saved the day.”

Freddie and John looked up from where they were sitting on the couch. Freddie had his arm around John, holding him close to his chest.

John looked up at Roger, who had just busted through the front door, “And, where have you been? We left when we couldn’t find you.”

Roger was grinning ear to ear, “Oh, nothing. Just getting our gig back.”

“You’re joking,” Freddie said, sitting up.

Roger shook his head, his smile growing wider, “I convinced him to let us open for the main act.”

“That’s incredible,” Freddie jumped from his spot on the couch.

“How did you manage that?” John asked, he was standing up as well.

“I guess you could say I have a way with people.”

“I’ll say! This is amazing, Roger, thank you,” Freddie hugged him.

Roger hugged him back, feeling a pang in his heart, but he ignored it. He knew this was something he had to do. It was the only way, and if he had to keep this secret from his friend, he’d do it.

For the next few minutes the boys talked about what songs to use, and what they would wear, when the door opened suddenly, causing all celebration to stop at once. It was Brian.

“Brian, I have wonderful news. Roger got us our gig back!” Freddie exclaimed.

Roger looked over at Brian, hoping to see an excited, or relieved face, but his expression was just cold, as he stared at Roger. There was disgust, and anger in his eyes. A sick feeling hit the pit of Roger’s stomach. Brian knew. How could he have known?

“Brian, didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you, Fred,” Brian said not taking his eyes off Roger.

“Then, what’s the matter, dear? You should be excited.”

“When we couldn’t find Roger, and we parted ways, after you two left, I went back to the pub. I wanted to try and convince the guy to let us play.”

It was at that moment Roger figured it out. Brian must have seen him or heard him through the door. He averted Brian’s gaze. Roger couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on the other boy’s face. It was like a shame he never felt before.

The flat was completely silent. Brian kept his eyes trained on Roger, “Are you going to tell them, or should I?”

“Tell us what?” John said, eyes shifting between Brian and Roger. He looked worried, “Roger?”

“I didn’t just talk to the manager to let us back into the show… I offered him something.”

“Offered him something?”

“It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before,” Roger said, mostly towards the group, but he was still in his stare down with Brian. It was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Oh, so is that how you got gigs in your old band, is that it? You’d just give out hand jobs left, and right?”

John and Freddie both turned their heads to look at Roger in surprise. They didn’t say a word, probably praying silently that what Brian was insinuating wasn’t true. However, the dead silence from Roger was a dead giveaway. The air was tight now in the room. It was almost too hard to breathe.

“You didn’t,” John said taken aback.

Roger stayed quiet.

“Roger,” Freddie said in a disappointed tone. He put his head in his hands.

Brian ignored the distress of his other bandmates. He was locked on Roger, “Why’d you do it?”

“Because, we were going to lose something we worked so hard for. I wasn’t going to let that arsehole take that away from us, so I did what I thought what I had to do. He wasn’t just going to give it back to us. The worst part of it was, you three were going to roll over and take it. None of you had the guts to fight for it, so I decided to do it myself.”

“That is not your decision to make, Roger,” John said through gritted teeth.

“We want to be known for our talent,” Brian argued, “What you did went against everything we stand for as a band!”

Roger turned to Freddie for support, but the older boy just shook his head, “We would have gotten other gigs, Roger. I don’t want to be known as a band that fucked their way to the top. What you did was irresponsible, and I can’t believe you did it, planning not to tell any of us.”

“So that’s it, huh? You’re all against me?” Roger huffed, “I can’t believe you guys. It isn’t like I did something totally immoral. I just got my foot in the door for us. If anything, you should be thanking me! This is what we wanted!”

“Thanking you?” Brian growled.

John got close to Roger, his voice low, “This is not what I wanted, but obviously I see you’re not going to lose sleep over it. Regardless, I’m not playing,” he said, and turned on his heel. He rushed over to Freddie’s room.

“You’re being selfish, John.”

John stopped with his hand on the door handle, “Enjoy your gig. I hope it was worth losing the respect of your band mates,” and with that, he swung open the door, walked inside, and then slammed it shut.

Roger felt his gut twist, but he decided to ignore the overwhelming guilt, “Let me guess,” he said, eyeing Freddie and Brian, “You’re out too?”

“This isn’t who we are,” Freddie said.

“Right,” Roger said, anger building in his chest, “we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing then? Because, that’s worked so well before.”

“At least it’s honest,” Brian said.

“Honesty doesn’t pay the bills. Tell me, Brian, when this band fails, how much do you think you’ll make strumming your guitar on the sidewalk?”

“Roger,” Freddie snapped, “That’s enough.”

It was a low blow, and it was obvious Brian had taken it to heart. He cleared his throat, “At least I have enough respect for myself to do the right thing. You walk around hating yourself. That’s why you’re drunk most of the time, and you fuck anything that gives you the slightest bit of attention,” Brian spat.

“Brian!” Freddie was now facing the other boy, but before he could say anything else, Brian turned and stormed out of the apartment.

Roger felt the tears welling up in his eyes. How could it have gone downhill so fast? With a shake of his head, Roger turned and ran for his room. He ignored Freddie as he slammed the door behind him. Tears ran freely down his face, as he slid to the ground. Roger knew he fucked up.

* * *

“Hello?” A feminine voice said through the phone, “Hello, is anyone there?”

Roger held his ear to the phone. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even utter a single noise.

“Hello?” The voice sounded annoyed. There was a pause, and then the sound of the end call button.

Roger sat there on his bed, cradling his cellphone in one hand, and smoking a cigarette with the other. He had the window open, so the smoke wouldn’t permeate the room. With another drag of his smoke, he ended the call on his end, and then threw the phone on the bed. What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like she wanted to talk to him.

It had been exactly nine hours since their fight, and Roger had stayed in his room for the entire time. He hadn’t felt like leaving his little sanctuary, not even for food or to use the restroom. In a way, Roger silently wanted to punish himself. He felt like this was all his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have brought his old tricks up to London. It was actions like what he did earlier that day, that made him leave home in the first place. Well, that, and Domonique.

Roger sighed, put out his cigarette, and looked over at the phone. Maybe he should try ringing her again? No, he’d just end up going completely mute again.

With a groan Roger laid back on his bed. He tried to close his eyes, but images of Brian popped into his head immediately. Brian yelling at him. Brian with that disapproving look on his face. It made Roger fucking sick to his stomach.

He rolled over on his side, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. Maybe the pain would go away if he slept, or maybe getting drunk would do the trick. Immediately, Brian was brought back to his mind. What did it matter anyway? Roger would always be a drunken slut in Brian’s eyes.

The feeling in Rogers stomach started to grow, making his insides feel like they were trying to twist out of his body. What was wrong with him? Without a second thought, Images flashed up in Roger’s brain that answered his question. Thoughts of His mother and father passed through his mind, his old band, Dom, John, Freddie, and Brian. Brian was another name added to the endless list of people Roger would just end up disappointing. All of his mistakes, every last one of them, they were like weights tied to his feet. And when Roger is finally pushed over the edge, he’d drown, not being able to come back up for air. No one could save him. No one would want to. He’d die cold and alone.

Speaking of drowning, Roger felt it kind of hard to breathe suddenly. He was holding himself tighter now, hoping to God he would just slip into unconsciousness. He wanted to forget so badly, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Roger opened his eyes, coincidentally at the same time he heard a knock at his door. He stayed quiet.

A moment passed before another knock was implemented, “Roger,” came Freddie’s voice, “Can we talk?”

Roger felt fresh tear surface, as he hid his face in his pillows. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

The was another knock, but this time John’s voice rang out, “Roger, please open the door. We know you’re in there, and we know you’re not asleep.”

“Go away,” Roger growled, lifting his head up only so his intentions weren’t muddled though his pillows. He soon, however, faceplanted back into his mattress.

“We need to talk,” John said.

There it was. The talk. Roger knew that tone all too well. They were going to kick him out of the band. Why wouldn’t they? Roger had dirtied the sanctity on their precious band, and now they were going to throw him out like an old dish rag. Roger’s mind started to race as he thought about how bad he fucked up. Maybe they weren’t just going make him leave the band, but also make him move out of the flat. He’d be homeless and have nowhere to go. The tightness in his chest grew, and his breathing was beginning to become erratic. Roger started to hyperventilate. He started crying hard. He curled up into himself and tugged at his hair as he felt his whole world start to crash around him.

The knocking grew louder, and so did the pounding of Roger’s heart. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, all he could do was cry. It was probably apparent and loud at this point, but Roger didn’t care. It was hard to breathe, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Roger didn’t know at what point Freddie and John came into the room, but he soon felt a pair of arms wrap around him and hoist him up in a sitting position.

Freddie voice was distant even though he was sitting right next to Roger, “Roger, I need you to calm down.”

Roger shook his head; he was clinging to his knees now.

“Roger, listen to me. You need to calm down. You’re having a panic attack,” John said, who was on the other side, talking into Roger’s ear.

A panic attack? How was he supposed to stop? He’d never had a panic attack before.

As if Freddie had just heard his inner thoughts, he said, “Just breathe, dear. It will be alright.”

Roger tried focusing on breathing. His chest was tight, and he couldn’t stop crying. However, Roger tried really hard to relax himself. It took a while, but when he could move his arms, Roger turned to Freddie and wrapped his arms around his neck. Roger buried his face into Freddie’s shirt.

“There, there. Just breathe,” Freddie said again, rubbing Roger’s back, “It’s going to be alright.”

Roger rested his head on Freddie’s chest while the older boy carded his hand through Roger’s hair. Once he calmed down enough to where he could speak, he said, “How did you two get into my room? The door was locked.”

“I have a key to all the doors in the flat. I got it when I rented the place. I never thought I’d ever have to use it. I Keep it in the desk drawer in my room.”

“You scared us half to death y’know,” John said, “We heard you freaking out, and we thought you were dying.”

“I felt like I was,” Roger admitted, looking over at Freddie, “How did you know I was having a panic attack? How did you know what to do?”

Freddie gave Roger a sad smile, “I had my fair share back in boarding school. I still have them now to this day. You get used to handling them, but it doesn’t make it any less scary, or any less real.”

Roger sat up and wiped at his eyes. He could feel strands of hair sticking to his face. He realized he must look like a mess. Roger glanced at John and then at Freddie, “Thank you, both of you.”

Freddie smiled and brushed the hair out of Roger’s eyes, “It isn’t any trouble at all, dear. We’re your friends, and you can always talk to us.”

Roger shook his head, “It’s all my fault.”

Freddie and john shared a knowing look, “Roger,” Freddie said gently, “It isn’t all your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

Freddie gave John a withering look. He then brought his focus back to Roger, “You do realize we need to talk about this, right?”

Roger nodded, “Could you just promise me one thing?”

“Of course, Roger.”

Roger held back his tears, not wanting to cause another episode, “Promise me that when you kick me out of the band, I still have a place to live. I- I can’t be evicted. I’ll have nowhere else to go.

Freddie and John gaped at him, “Evicted? Kick you out of the band?” Freddie said incredulously.

“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about, right?”

“Roger, we’re not kicking you out of the band, or the flat,” Freddie said.

Roger blinked up at him, “But I thought…” he trailed off.

“No, Roger, I wouldn’t do that to you. Why on earth did you think that I would?”

“I went behind your backs. I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Roger,” John said, resting his hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“But earlier you said-”

“I was upset. We all were.”

“John and I have talked it over, and we decided to do the gig,” Freddie said.

“Really?”

“Well, it isn’t really like we have a choice. If we cancel now, after making this much of a fuss, that would look bad on us,” John said, “It doesn’t mean we’ll enjoy it.”

“What about Brian?”

“Brian agreed, but only because his parents are coming. He wanted me to tell you that directly,” Freddie said.

Roger nodded solemnly, “I truly am sorry.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I can’t even fathom why you thought it was a good idea in the first place,” Freddie said.

Roger shook his head. He moved away from Freddie, sliding back up against the headboard. He grabbed another cigarette and lit it. He took a few puffs before speaking, “I use to do it all the time actually. That was back in my old band though.”

“Your old band would sell your body for gigs?” Freddie gasped.

“Nothing really that extreme. It was all voluntary. It was usually me and another bandmate of mine, Dom. She and I would chat up pub owners into letting us play. When we had played at nearly every spot in Truro, we moved to other towns, usually out of Cornwall, and played in their pubs. It was hard when you were from a small town, and no one took you seriously. It wasn’t rocket science. I’m a pretty face, and I knew I could get us in.”

It was a while before anyone said anything. Roger couldn’t bare it any longer, the silence. He knew they were judging him. Roger stared down at this bed, avoiding looking the other two in the eyes, “Please say something,” he whispered.

“What on earth do you want us to say?” John asked.

“I just wanted to do something for the band. I wanted to make something right for one. I messed up though, and I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Freddie shook his head, and he lifted Roger’s chin so they were staring back at one another, “We would never do that, Roger.”

“Roger,” John said.

Roger looked away.

“Roger,” John said more forcefully, making the blond turn to him, “You are not just a pretty face. You are a smart, witty, and talented guy. You’re great person. Don’t ever think you have to use your body to get us to like you, or to accept you. Just be you, Roger. That’s enough. You _are_ enough.”

Roger blinked back his tears, “Thanks, Deaky. I wish Brian would say that to me. He basically hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“You heard him, Fred,” Roger moved away. He snuffed his cigarette out and laid it on the window seal, “He pretty much called me a whore.”

“He was angry,” Freddie reasoned, “I wouldn’t take it to personally.”

“Yeah,” Roger said unconvinced.

“Even if he was, dear, he has no room to talk. I’m sure Brian has gotten up to some unsavory things in the past.”

Roger’s mind immediately flashbacked to the night at the pub. He thought of Brian grinding up against him in desperation. The lustful demeanor in his eye. Roger pushed the memory away, “You might be right about that, Fred.”

John feigned shock, “Oh no, not saint Brian. Never in a million years.”

They all shared a laugh. Roger could feel the weight of their fight lift off his shoulders. Hopefully, Freddie was right, and Brian didn’t hate him. Brian didn’t have to forgive him yet, but maybe one day he could see Roger as more than a floozy. That’s all he wanted right now. Roger couldn’t be sure if that would ever happen, but he’d try any way. Only time would tell.

* * *

The pub was packed from wall to wall. Roger squeezed his way through the crowd of people, two beers in hand. He had slipped out from backstage to get him and Freddie some drinks. In hopes that maybe some alcohol would settle their nerves.

It was a strange sort of energy, being back in a band, about to go on for a show. It was strange, but also exciting. That old nostalgic feeling was starting to set in, and Roger felt a calm wash over him. He was in his element. However, he was still nervous. He hadn’t played in front of an audience for almost a year. What if he messed up? What if he choked on stage? All the ‘what if’s’ flooded his brain as he made his way backstage.

It was a small room. The main band playing that night were gone, already having had practiced before Roger and the other’s got there. They were somewhere else in the bar. That, however, did not cause the small space to be any less cramped. In addition to Freddie, who was practicing his lyrics in the corner, and Brian and John, who were tuning their instruments, the room was filled with friends of the band, waiting to wish their friends luck on their first gig. This didn’t include roger of course. These were all Freddie, John, and Brian’s friends. A few faces Roger noticed, like Tim, Mary, and Jim stood out.

Roger scanned the room, watching some of the unknown faces. He thought about maybe striking up a conversation with someone, when something suddenly knocked into him, nearly making him spill his drinks. “Oi, watch it,” he snapped.

The something that bumped into him was an amp, being held by someone. It was a boy who looked about his age. He had dark brown hair, and a boyish smile. His eyes went wide, and he nearly dropped what he was holding, “Sorry! I’m so sorry.”

Roger composed himself, “S’all right, mate. Be a little more careful though. I think killing the drummer would be bad luck,” he joked.

The boy’s face flushed, “You’re the drummer? You must be Roger then,” the boy carefully set down the amp. He held his hand out for Roger to shake, “I’m Peter. Peter Freestone, but you can call me Phoebe.”

Roger set one of the drinks down and shook the other boy’s hand, “Roger Taylor, but you already knew that, Phoebe. Interesting nickname by the way. How’d you get stuck with it?”

Phoebe smiled sheepishly, “Freddie gave it to me. Said he knew hundreds of Peters, but I’d be his first Phoebe. After that, it pretty much stuck. Everyone calls me it, even more than my actual name, believe it or not.”

Roger nodded. So, this was one of Freddie’s friends. He wondered if this was a friend, or an ex that became a friend. Before he could think about it more, Roger was nearly knocked over again, but this time it was no accident.

Freddie giggled, as he hugged Roger, “Is that my drink, darling?”

Roger rolled his eyes, “It is. You’re lucky it’s not all over the floor, the way you ambushed me.”

Freddie pouted, “ _Ambush_ is a strong word,” he plucked the drink from Roger’s hand. Freddie took a sip, looked over at Phoebe, and smiled, “Phoebe, it seems you met our Rockstar band mate.”

“ _Rockstar_ is a strong word, Fred,” Roger said.

“It is, but I mean every word of it.”

Roger laughed and picked up his drink. He looked over at Phoebe, who had picked the amp back up,

“Freddie’s shown us videos of you playing. You’re very talented.”

Roger felt his face heat up with embarrassment. He wondered what else Freddie had said about him. He didn’t really like to be the topic of conversation when he wasn’t around. Roger mumbled a shy, “thanks,” and then took a drink.

“Is that all of it, dear?” Freddie pointed to the amp in Phoebe’s arms, changing the subject. Roger was grateful.

“Yep, this is the last of it, good thing too. I almost took Roger down with this thing.”

“Nearly knocked me out of my shoes,” Roger said with a laugh.

“You could have hospitalized our drummer,” Freddie said with a faux expression of anger, “Jesus, Phoebe, what do I pay you for?”

Phoebe rolled his eyes, pushing past Roger and Freddie, “Pay me? That’ll be the day.”

Freddie smiled at the boy, and then looked at Roger, “He helps move our equipment. He did it a lot when Tim was in the band with us. That was back when we could actually book show, but even then, it was a few and far in between.”

“You seem like good friends.”

Freddie nodded, “He’s one of my best.”

Roger glanced around the room again. He saw many unfamiliar faces laughing and having a good time, and Roger had no sentimental attachment to any of them. He felt like an outsider. It was one of the worst feelings in the world to him. He kept a brave face, however, and carried on. It was a waste of time to think he’d form any kind of friendship with any of these people outside of the band. Roger sighed.

Freddie stared at him knowingly, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing into yourself. Why do you feel the need to do that? No one here will judge you.”

Roger took a swig of his drink, “It’s hard to explain, Freddie.”

Freddie nodded, not pushing for an answer. He stayed silent for a moment until his attention was caught by someone who was calling for him. It was Mary. Freddie smiled and waved, starting to head her way, but then stopped and glanced back at Roger.

“Go,” Roger said, “I’ll be alright.”

Freddie was hesitant at first, but then soon left to be with Mary.

Roger finished off his drink, and then looked around the room. He saw that John had left his spot and was chatting with a girl who looked about his age. Brian was gone as well, but Roger couldn’t see where he’d gone off to. Roger considered going to look for him when something on the ground caught his eye.

Roger made his way over to where Brian had been sitting before. Once he had gotten close enough, Roger realized that it was Brian’s necklace. He bent down to pick it up. Roger guided his thumb over the smooth surface. It looked worn down from years of use. Upon further inspection, he realized the chain was broken. Roger suspected Brian didn’t even know it was gone, or maybe he did, and he’d gone to look for it.

“Where did you get that?” a voice said, as if on cue.

Roger turned to see Brian. It was the first time they’d spoken to each other since their fight, “I found it on the ground,” he answered.

Brian had a nervous expression in his eyes. He lifted his hand to his neck, confirming the necklace was in fact gone, “I didn’t even know it had fallen off.”

“The chain is broken,” Roger said, holding the piece of jewelry out for Brian to take.

Brian nodded, and then gently plucked it from Roger’s outstretched hand, “Thank you.”

“Well, I assumed you would be missing it. Seeing that you wear it nonstop and everything.”

‘I would have been. Missing it, that is. I’ve had that necklace for about fourteen years now.”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“A friend gave it to me.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Roger commented.

Brian remained silent. He wore somewhat of a pained expression, as he gripped the necklace tighter in his hand.

Roger shifted awkwardly, “Or not,” he mumbled. Clearly, Brian didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it was personal to him. Yes, Roger decided, that had to be it. Though that theory dwindled when another one popped into his head, _‘Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk about it with you,’_ he thought bitterly. It shouldn’t have made him angry, but Roger could feel a red-hot heat in his ears. His heart ached at the thought of his and Brian’s relationship. They were doing so well. He thought they were just becoming friends. Now, Roger feels like he ruined it. He ruined everything.

“Hey,” Brian said gently, grasping Roger’s arm lightly, “Are you alright?”

Roger shook himself, “Fine.”

Brian looked unconvinced. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Brian said, “Listen, Roger, about yesterday-”

Roger cut him off, “Brian, you don’t have to say anything.”

“I was being a prick. I said somethings that I shouldn’t have, and I know now you were only trying to help. I just- I hope…” Brian chewed on his bottom lip, clearly trying to figure out what to say, “Could we just forgive and forget? Pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“But it did happen. You practically called me a whore.”

“Yeah, but-”

Roger shook his head. He needed to get away. In an attempt to leave, he pushed past Brian, but was stopped when Brian gripped tightly onto his wrists. Fear eroded him when he felt Brian’s nails slightly dig into his skin.

“Roger, listen to me. I’m trying to apologize to you.”

Roger yanked his hand free, “Let me go,” he pointed a finger at Brian, “If you ever grab me like that again, I’ll knock your fucking teeth in,” he then turned around sharply and then stomped away.

Roger waited around Freddie until they went on stage. Of course, Freddie could tell Roger’s mood had changed, and he bombarded him with questions. Roger successful dodged all of them, not wanting to cause a fight between Freddie and Brian before their gig. Roger let out and audible sigh of relief when he heard their name being called.

The four of them took the stage. Roger positioned himself behind his drums, all his negative feelings rushed out of him when he looked out at the crowed. He felt a sense of calm. He was in his element. Even if the crowd booed them off stage, Roger would only strive to be better. It was like every time he played his drums something clicked inside him. It took him back to the days of lying on the floor, listening to his dad’s record player. It brought him back to happier times.

Roger looked out into the audience again, faces blurred his vision. He didn’t have a single person in that audience that came specifically for him, but for the first time in months, Roger felt like he was home. And, when Roger finally heard Freddie finish their introduction, and it was Roger’s cue to start them off. He couldn’t miss a beat, even if he wanted to.

When they finished their set, Roger immediately made his way to the bar. He knocked back a couple shots of tequila, wanting to get buzzed while the adrenaline was still high in his system. They played well, in Roger’s opinion. If the crowd was any indication to go by, he’d say they knocked it out of the park. It made Roger optimistic about getting better gigs in the future.

“I have to say you proved me wrong,” A voice said.

Roger turned to see the manager smirking at him. His stomach twisted in knots.

“That was a compliment,” he chuckled, moving closer to Roger.

Roger squirmed, “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“I’d like to have your group play more shows here. Maybe next time I could hire you on for a full gig.”

Roger’s eye widened, “That would be great actually.”

The manager hummed in approval, “Yes, it would. Unfortunately, we’ve got our line-ups for the next few months.”

Roger made a face, “Is that so?”

The Manager nodded, “I guess I could find a way to squeeze your group in.”

“Let me guess,” Roger said through gritted teeth, “More office visits?”

The other man shrugged, and then leaned closer towards Roger, “What can I say? You’re a good negotiator.”

Roger felt chills run down his spine. He was so close he could smell the alcohol on his breath. Roger felt trapped, his eyes darted around to find a way to possibly escape the conversation, but there was no way out. He wanted to tell the guy to go to hell, but how would that make the band look. A guy like this had a lot of pull. Roger wracked his brain for a response, but he couldn’t speak. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Enjoy the show?” a familiar voice said.

A wave of relief entered Roger’s body when he saw Brian standing there, hands on his hips.

The manager backed away, keeping his eyes on Roger, “I did. I was just telling your drummer how much I liked it.”

“Is that all?”

Well that and I was just discussing future arrangements. You boys are a diamond in the rough. It’s a good thing your friend here came back to my office yesterday and convinced me to let you play. You’re lucky to have such a talented band mate.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re lucky I’m not kicking your arse right now,” Brian’s voice was sharp, and it caused Roger and the manager to stare up at him in surprise, “Get away from him.”

The manager held his hands up in defense, “No need for that. We were just talking.”

Whatever you’re offering, we’re not interested.”

“Is that correct?”

Brian’s jaw was set in anger, “We aren’t really a band that associates with people who take sex offers from their clients.”

“But you’ll play in a band with someone who propositions them?”

Roger stared down at the floor in shame.

“Shows what morals you have. What Roger did was wrong, but he only felt like he needed to do it because you fucked us over in the first place. You should have refused when he came to you with the offer.”

The manger made a face of disgust, “If you’re looking for an industry that has their morals in check, then the music industry definitely isn’t it. Look, I don’t have all night,” he turned to Roger, “What do you say, love? I could get you into places you could only dream of playing.”

Roger shook his head, making the other man scoff. He watched the manger sulk off somewhere else, and then Roger looked up at Brian, “Thanks.”

Brian sighed, running his fingers through his unruly hair, “I’m just glad he left you alone. After tonight we are never stepping foot in this place again.”

“Agreed. This pub is basically an overpriced shithole anyway. Plus, the drinks are all watered down.”

“C’mon,” Brian said, reaching his hand out for Roger to take, “I have some people I want you to meet. That is, if you’re not still mad at me.”

Roger rolled his eyes, and then took Brian’s hand immediately. He let the taller boy drag him through the crowd of people, “Am I meeting your parents?” Roger was curious. He knew Brian’s parents came tonight, but he didn’t hear what their reaction was to their set yet.

Brian shook his head, “They had to leave right after the show. Y’know, work and everything. They had a good time though,” Brian looked back at him and beamed, “My dad said he was proud of me.”

Roger couldn’t help but feel a swell in his chest. He would do just about anything to see Brian smile like that again.

After a few more turns, the two arrived at their destination, a table. Luckily, most of the faces Roger recognized immediately, a few were complete strangers.

“There you are,” John said. He was sitting in Freddie’s lap, drinking a pint of beer.

“Where did you find him?” Freddie asked.

“Next to the bar.”

Roger gave the group a smile, not saying a word about their ‘conversation’ with the manager. He didn’t want to put a damper on the festivities. Besides, Brian didn’t mention it either. Roger would say something to Freddie, or they’d discuss it at the next band practice, but not tonight. Tonight, was their night.

“Roger, we wanted you to meet the group,” Freddie said.

“Hello, group,” Roger laughed nervously. Why was this so hard to do?

“You already know a few people here,” Brian said gently.

Roger nodded, silently thanking Brian, who seemed to notice his discomfort.

“It’s great to formally meet you. We’ve met in passing a couple times,” Mary said.

“Same here,” Jim piped up, “I enjoyed the show.”

“Thanks. Jim, right?” Roger said and smiled when the dark-haired boy nodded.

Freddie smiled as well, “I know you’ve met Mary and Jim, and you know Tim. Let’s see,” Freddie paused for a moment, “You met Phoebe tonight already.”

“We met over the phone,” A girl butted in, her tone light and playful. She had long brown hair, and freckles, “When you called Brian that one night at three in the morning.”

So, this was Chrissie. Roger looked her up and down. She was very pretty and was even prettier when she smiled. He could see why Brian liked her so much.

Roger laughed, “Sorry about that.”

Chrissie giggled, “It’s alright. I’m glad you made it back to your flat ok.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ok. I made it home in one piece, if that’s what you mean.”

The group laughed, and Roger felt a little less anxious.

“Roger,” John said, “I want you to meet my best friend.”

Roger let his eyes travel over to where Freddie and John were sitting, and a girl was sitting in the chair next to them. It was the same girl he saw talking with John earlier before the show. He could see John had his hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“This is Veronica.”

Veronica smiled and waved, “Hi.”

“Believe it or not, this is Veronica’s first-time meeting everyone.”

Roger sighed in relief, “That’s good. I don’t have to feel like an outsider as much anymore.”

Veronica nodded, “We can be outsiders together then. I loved your show by the way. It sucks you only got to open for the band. I would have loved to hear more.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Tim questioned, “I thought you said you were filling in for one of the bands?”

Freddie shrugged as if what happened in the past couple of days didn’t exist, “Scheduling changes.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” John said.

“Right, we still got to play,” Brian pointed out. By this time, Brian had already taken his seat next to Chrissie.

Roger had pulled up a chair and placed it on the other side of John and Freddie, “Right, at least we got to play,” He said, with a hint of regret in his voice.

“It was good,” Tim admitted, “John, you’re an amazing bass player.”

“Thanks, Tim.”

“I would have done better though,” he winked, not being able to hide the teasing nature of his voice.

“Then you shouldn’t have quit,” Brian said, a little heated.

Tim rolled his eyes, “I was only joking around. Calm down, Brimi.”

“Brimi?” Roger laughed.

Brian groaned and put his head in his hands, “I told you to stop with that nickname. It wasn’t cool then, and it isn’t cool now.”

“Oh, c’mon, _Brimi_ , you know you love it.”

“Shut up.”

Roger watched Brian and Tim’s playful banter from across the table. It made him feel sick, when he felt knots of jealousy start to form in his stomach. He turned to Freddie, “I didn’t know Tim and Brian were such good friends.”

Freddie shrugged, “They’ve known each other the longest. They went to school together.”

“That’s right. Brian and I were the best of mates. Isn’t that right, Bri?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Brian said, shoving Tim playfully.

Roger grinned, “I bet you got some interesting stories about Brian then?”

Tim grinned as well, “I sure do.”

“I would love to know what a young, awkward, Brian May was like,” Roger said. He laughed when the rest of the table agreed with him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Brian interjected.

“Well, we have all night,” Tim said, as if Brian hadn’t said a word. He then started off telling a story about Brian trying to straighten his hair out for the first time.

The whole group laughed as the story progressed, and soon Brian was joining in.

Roger, who had tears in his eyes, hadn’t felt this good since he left Truro. The months he spent hiding away in his room was something like a bad dream. It was like Roger had been under a spell, and now he finally had woken up. He looked around at the smiling, and laughing faces, and realized something. He might have been far from his home, but maybe London could be his home too.


	6. Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is a little short. Though the next few chapters are ones I'm really excited about. Also, in this chapter, I mention a character named Daniel. I know I update like a month at a time, so if you don't remember this character, I mentioned him in chapter 4. Ok, that's all from me for now. Thanks for reading!

Brian adjusted his tie for the fifth time, as he stood in front of the hallway mirror. He felt constricted in a way. It wasn’t that the suit was too tight, but he felt not himself when he was in it. Brian stared back at his reflection and grimaced. He didn’t like wearing the monkey suit. It made him feel like he was back in primary school. He didn’t even know why he had to get so dressed up anyway, it was a dinner, not a gala. In Brian’s mind it made no sense, but he wasn’t dressing up for himself. This was for Chrissie and her parents, to appease them some way. Brian guessed, that in their minds, this was what a proper doctor dressed like. It made Brian want to roll his eyes.

Of course, he would have been angrier about being made to wear the suit, if he wasn’t still riding on the euphoric feeling of last night. Brian grinned as he thought about their gig. They were amazing. It was like they were unstoppable. It was as if they were electric fire, burning through the entire building. He remembered how the crowd cheered and clapped. His friends and his parent, yes, his parents, standing in ovation. He remembered meeting his folks backstage, and the first thing his mother did was give him a hug. His father shook his hand, and said he was proud of Brian. The memory made his heart swell. It was a perfect night. Well, almost a perfect night.

Brian’s mind flashed back to when the pub’s manager was basically harassing Roger at the bar. Anger overtook him suddenly when he remembered how close the man was standing to Roger, and the uneasy look on Roger’s face. It made his blood boil to think someone in that position of power would take advantage of someone like that. It didn’t surprise him in anyway however, since it was common in show business, unfortunately. He was just happy he made it to Roger in time before anything happened. Brian wouldn’t know what he’d do if Roger had gotten hurt. If he hadn’t been there in time to save him.

His mind suddenly flashed, and Daniel appeared. He quickly tried to push the image out, but it remained there, burning in his brain. Brian’s stomach lurched and he grabbed on to the necklace. He felt his fingers go over the old peace symbol, and he thought back to his childhood, when he was around twelve years old. He thought back to a boy about seventeen, sitting down at Brian’s kitchen table.

_“Be happy in the moment, Brian,” Daniel would say, and touch the necklace around his neck._

Brian shook his head, and let his hand fall back to his side. Fourteen years felt like fourteen lifetimes ago. He sighed and adjusted his tie again. Brian looked down at his torso, to his pants, and then down to his shoes. He smiled down at his feet. Clogs, the one bit of individuality they couldn’t take from him, that, and his hair.

_‘And the necklace’,_ he thought to himself, but soon shook the thought away completely.

“You look handsome,” A feminine voice said, bringing Brian back to reality.

He smiled, staring at Chrissie in the mirror. He watched her stand behind him, and put her earrings in, “You look beautiful,” he said.

Chrissie grinned, and stood back to admire herself in the mirror. She eyed herself up and down and nodded approvingly. She then stopped, however, and stared at Brian in the mirror. In particular, his feet.

“Really, Bri?” she said, in an annoyed tone.

“What?”

“Your shoes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes, and then turned around to face him, “The clogs.”

Brian shifted uncomfortably. He knew this was the start of an argument, “What about them?”

“This is supposed to be a formal dinner. Those shoes don’t really go with your suit.”

“So? I like them.”

Chrissie pursed her lips together, like she was mulling over what she would say next. Finally, after a moment, she said, “What about the loafers I bought you, the black ones? I think they’re still in the closet. We still have time. I can go grab them for you.”

“I don’t know why you’d bother, since I’m not wearing them.”

“Brian,” Chrissie warned, “you’re being difficult.”

“And, you’re being controlling,” Brian said heatedly.

Chrissie put her hands on her hips, “I am not.”

“Telling me what to wear isn’t being controlling?”

“I just wanted you to look nice. Jesus, Brian, you act like you don’t even want to go at all.”

_‘That’s because I don’t,’_ he thought bitterly to himself. Brian bit his tongue, to keep his inner monologue from spilling out. Despite being pissed off at her, Brian didn’t want to make Chrissie cry. He instead, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. He didn’t want to cause a fight between them, and then have to explain to Chrissie’s parents why their daughter was in such a terrible mood.

Brian inhaled and exhaled a few more times before speaking, but when he felt calm enough to speak, he said, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late,” and with that, Brian grabbed his coat and slipped it on.

Chrissie huffed a “Fine,” in response, and then went back into their room to grab her purse.

Brian shook his head, as he grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

On Monday, Brian had gotten up early for his morning class. He wanted to grab some breakfast, and a coffee, before having to deal with the drudgery of school at eight in the morning.

He slipped out of bed, careful to not wake up Chrissie. He walked over to the closet and put on his clothes, skipping his shower in order to get out of the flat as quick as possible. He didn’t want to risk the chance of Chrissie waking up. He knew if she did, they would have to talk about last night. Brian wasn’t ready to discuss it.

He though back immediately to how it all started, with Saturday night’s events, despite wanting to forget. After diffusing their small argument about Brian’s shoes. They had gone to Chrissie’s parents, and the dinner was nice enough. Brian made polite conversation with Chrissie’s parents, and made a point to laugh at all their jokes. However, no matter how much he faked being happy, he couldn’t help feeling out of place. He didn’t feel like he fit in Chrissie’s world.

Chrissie’s parents were typically traditional and strict. They expected a lot from their daughter, and the men she dated. Brian always felt like he was walking on eggshells every time he was around them. They lived in a big expensive house, and Brian was afraid that if he even breathed wrong, something would topple over and break. They were always critiquing him about his hair, and his clothing choices, and the fact that he dedicated his free time to the band and not to getting a job. Usually, it drove Brian up the wall, and Saturday was no exception. It did, however, surprise him that they waited so long to sink their teeth into him. Maybe they were trying to be polite, but Brian knew condescension when he saw it.

It happened after dinner, when they were all relaxing in the living room. Chrissie’s father was lecturing him about how music wasn’t a stable occupation, while Chrissie’s mother kept making subtle suggestions about how he needed to cut his hair. It had gotten so bad, that Brian had to get out. He had excused himself to get some air, and then rushed out the front door.

After a while, Chrissie came out and found him. Brian was sitting on the front steps, fiddling with his necklace. It was then when things went from bad to worse.

It started out small. Chrissie brought up how rude Brian was acting towards her parents. How he had been angry with her all night, and now he was purposefully trying to take it out on her. It then escalated quickly after that. Brian threw out insults such as controlling, selfish, and spoiled. Finally, what Brian had initially feared happened. He had hurt Chrissie’s feelings again, causing her to cry. It was at that point in the evening, when Chrissie just told him to go home, and Brian, not wanting to argue or hurt her any further, drove back home.

Of course, just like all their fights, they made up. They would cry in each other’s arms, apologizing to one another, and last night was no different.

Chrissie had arrived home around four in the afternoon yesterday. She immediately apologized for her actions, which of course caused Brian to follow suit. It truly was no different than any other time they got into arguments. It was when they started ‘making up’, and what followed, that made Brian want to bury himself in sand.

It started off with kissing, and then when it became more heated, Brian had taken Chrissie to the bedroom. They fumbled around for a while, and it felt nice. It was nothing spectacular, but it rarely ever was. Since his night with Roger at the pub, sex with Chrissie felt like a chore now more than anything else. It made Brian feel terrible. What made matters worse, was that by the time they’d gotten their clothes off, Brian wasn’t even hard, not even a little. It was embarrassingly noticeable, and Chrissie noticed it as well.

“Get off,” she had said, but not in an angry way. She just sounded tired.

Brian hadn’t known what to say. He slid off of Chrissie and laid down next to her. He then stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to make eye contact with her, “I’m sorry. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“It’s alright.”

Brian had known it wasn’t, and it hadn’t been for a long time.

They had laid there for some moments until Chrissie spoke up, “You shouldn’t apologize. It isn’t your fault.”

Brian had looked over at Chrissie, and she’d been staring at him. Their eyes locked onto each other, and it was as if she was staring straight into his soul. It was like she knew something. It was like she knew about Roger. It was like she _knew_ everything. Brian didn’t say a word, and he turned over on his side, facing away from Chrissie. The image of her face staring at him burned into the inside of Brian’s eyelids, and the image stayed with him, even after he went to sleep.

Brian winced internally, bringing himself back to the present. He quickly finished getting ready, and then left.

When Brian pulled up to the small pastry shop, he felt a sigh of relief escape him. This small little shop was a comfort to him. The food, the faces, and just the atmosphere in general was enough to put a smile on his face.

He got out of the car, and walked up to the front entrance, but then he stopped suddenly, when he noticed someone sitting at a booth next to the one of the windows. It was Roger, and he wasn’t alone.

Brian’s stomach twisted in knots when he saw the blond talking to two girls. One of them sat next to Roger, basically draping herself over him. The other girl sat across, holding his hand in hers. They were laughing at something Roger had said, and it made Brian lose his appetite. He was about to turn around and leave, when Roger looked out the window, and realized Brian was staring right at him.

Roger grinned and waved. He smiled wider when Brian hesitantly waved back. Roger then made a hand motion, ushering Brian to come and sit with him.

Brian wanted nothing more than to run away, but he swallowed his jealously, and walked into the shop. He smiled and waved at some of the staff, who greeted him and knew him by name. Brian made his way down to where Roger was sitting and stood in front of the table. He looked over at Roger, who was drinking what looked to be a coffee, and then at the two girls, who were even prettier up close.

“Hey,” Brian said, faking a smile.

“Hey,” Roger responded, “You’re up pretty early.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

Roger shrugged, “Been out all night, haven’t been to sleep yet. I decided I’d grab a bite to eat before going home. You?”

“I have a morning lecture. I thought I’d grab breakfast before class.”

Roger nodded and smiled.

“Who’s your friend, Roger?” One of the girls asked.

“This is Brian May,” Roger smiled up at him, and it made Brian’s heart do somersaults in his chest.

Brian waved at the two girls.

“Oh! This is the famous Brian. You’re in Roger’s band, right?”

_‘Famous?’_ Brian thought as he felt his face heat up. Not exactly because there were two attractive girls fawning over him being in a band, but because Roger had been talking about him. It made him feel a little giddy. In hindsight, Brian found it a little funny. It wasn’t but two months ago that he was threatening to knock Roger out if he even spoke his name. Now, every time Roger even looked in his direction, Brian could feel fluttering in his stomach. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“He plays guitar,” Roger said, snapping Brian out of his own head.

“That must be fun,” the girl next to Roger piped up, and was leaning over Roger now, giving Brian a smoldering look, “Are you taking on any groupies? Maybe you could give us guitar lessons some time? I bet you’re a good teacher.”

“Oi, what am I then?” Roger pouted playfully, “You’ve never asked me for guitar lessons.”

“Oh, we let you give us plenty of lessons last night. That wasn’t good enough for you?” the girl said, leaning back into her seat.

“Yeah,” the girl across from them giggled, and then stuck out her tongue.

“No, no,” Roger assured, “last night was amazing. You both have thoroughly tired me out. Kept me up all night, and I’ll be sleeping until the late evening, I can promise you that.”

“Oh, poor lamb,” the girl next to Roger cooed and petted his hair. She then looked over at Brian, “Maybe you and Roger both can give us private lessons.”

“What?” Brian’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

The girl grinned maniacally, not taking her sight of Brian.

Brian didn’t know what to say to that. Was this girl insinuating that they should all get together and have sex? The thought made him want to jump out of his skin, and he was shocked to say the least. Luckily, Roger stepped in and spoke up.

“Don’t waste your time. He’s in a relationship,” Roger said, his tone losing all the playfulness that was in his voice before.

The girl, who still hadn’t broken eye contact with Brian, said, “So? I don’t mind.”

Brian felt his entire body tense up. He wanted this conversation to be over. He looked over at Roger who wasn’t smiling anymore, and he was staring at his hands, which were resting on the table.

“Hey,” the girl across from Roger reached over to touch him, “You alright?”

“Maybe you two should leave,” Roger said, not looking up.

“Leave? Did we do something wrong?”

Roger shook his head, “It’s getting late. I’m gonna go home and sleep off this hangover.”

The girl let go of Roger, and then stared at him with confused eyes, “But- but we drove you here.”

“I’ll take the tube home.”

The girl sitting next to Roger rolled her eyes, and slightly pushed Roger so he would get up. She then scooted out of the booth, “We get it. Some people don’t like to share,” she said, her eyes trained on Roger.

Roger folded his arms over his chest and watched the girl and her friend leave the table. He sat back down and sighed, rubbing his face with his hands, “Sorry about that.”

Brian shook his head, as he sat across from him, “Not your fault,” he said, and then reached up to touch his necklace, “What did she mean by that, by the way?”

“What?”

“What she said to you. She said, ‘some people don’t like sharing’.”

Roger sighed again, “When I said you were in a relationship, she thought that-”

“I was in a relationship with you,” Brian finished, ducking his head to hide his blushing face.

“Yeah,” Roger cleared his throat.

“Doesn’t make much sense. Why would you be sleeping with them, if _we_ were in a relationship?”

Roger shrugged, “Sometimes open relationships are very one-sided.”

Brian nodded, and then didn’t speak for a moment. He really wanted to change the subject. He looked around the café, and watched people at tables chatting away, and then at people ordering their food at the cash register.

“So,” Roger said, making Brian whip his head around to look at him, “Has Freddie gotten us any new gigs yet?”

Brian smiled a little, very thankful that Roger took it upon himself to change the subject, “Uh, yeah, I think he’s been talking to a few people. Nothing as popular as our last _gig_ , but that’s probably a good thing.”

Roger brightened up, “That’s good.”

“It is.”

“I guess I wasn’t a complete waste then?”

Brian gave him a strange look, “Never said you were.”

“Well, you think I’m a slutty drunk,” Roger pointed out.

“I do not,” Brian said, offended that Roger would even say that.

“Oh, c’mon, Brian, yes you do. I can tell by the way you look at me. As if that isn’t blatant enough, you basically screamed it at me last week.”

“That’s not true. I was just lashing out, and I said I was sorry,” Brian said, exasperated.

“The funny thing is, I did it for you, you fucking bastard,” Roger said, but then stopped speaking. A look of mortification was plastered onto his face. A sudden silence followed. It was as if he was so caught up in their argument, that he said something he was trying to keep back.

Brian stared at Roger, “What do you mean you did it for me?”

“Oh, hell, I didn’t mean. What I meant was,” Roger was fumbling his words now.

“Roger.”

Roger groaned in frustration, “What does it matter anyway? It’s fucking done with.”

“Roger,” Brian said more sternly.

Roger sighed, and then rubbed the back of his head. He avoided eye contact with Brian as he said, “Maybe there is a small possibility that I got our gig back for you.”

“Why?”

Roger looked at Brian, “Because of how upset you were about your parents.”

“What?”

“It’s just you were so upset, and I know I don’t know anything about your relationship with your parents, but the look on your face when that asshole said we couldn’t play. I’ve seen that look; I knew what that feeling was. I didn’t want you to feel like a failure. I wanted to get our gig back for the band, sure. We fucking deserved it, but I could have lived without it. It wasn’t until I saw how fucking hurt you were,” Roger shook his head, “I just wanted your folks to see how talented you were, and it just wasn’t fair.”

Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was then when Brian finally realized how shitty he’d been to Roger. Memories flashed through his mind of him spilling his drink on Roger at the pub, yelling at him during his audition, pushing him away. All the fights, and snide comments that Brian threw Roger’s way. Of course, Roger thought Brian didn’t like him. Brian, for the first time, truly understood that he was being a massive dick. He’d been so confused ever since Roger showed up in his life, and he was taking his frustration out on not only Roger, but Chrissie too. Brian put his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Brian. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just wanted to help.”

“You’re sorry?!” Brian looked up, the tears in his eyes dangerously close to spilling out onto his cheek, “Jesus, Rog, why are you apologizing to me?”

Roger looked shocked, “I- I didn’t mean to get you so upset. Are you crying?”

Brian ignored him, “I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Well, yes, at first, I was furious. Roger, of course I didn’t like what you did, but how could I be mad at you now? In fact, you’re the one that should be mad at me.”

“For what?”

“For everything. I’ve been so terrible to you, Roger. Ever since we first met, I’ve been absolutely atrocious to you.”

“I mean kind of, yes, but I deserved it. I fooled around with you even though I knew you were taken, and I tried to get you to admit to things that maybe you’re not ready for the world to know about. I woke you up at three in the morning because I was drunk and needed a ride home, and I went behind your back and seduced some creep, because he wouldn’t let us play at his shitty pub. I get why you feel the way you do about me. It hurts, but I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it, Roger. It’s my fault. I’m the one with the problem. I shouldn’t have judged you like I did. I don’t think you’re a drunk, or a slut, or any of those things.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course, I don’t. I happen to think you’re a brilliant man, Roger Taylor. I’ve thought you were brilliant from the moment we met. You’re one of the few people I’ve talked to that truly understands me.”

Roger gave Brian a small smile, “I guess I could say the same thing about you. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for us. We’re both so much alike, and we’re both so bloody stubborn.”

Brian chuckled, “Yes, and I guess we’ve both been going through some hard times. No wonder we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Yeah, that, and among other things, but we both have our own demons, I suppose. Maybe if you want to, we can start over?”

Brian grinned, “I’d like that,” Brian stuck his hand out, “Hi, I’m Brian May.”

Roger grabbed Brian’s hand and shook it, “I’m Roger Taylor, and I’m looking forward to being your band mate, and hopefully your friend.”

“Roger, what are you talking about? Of course, we’re friends,” Brian said, causing Roger to grin. It was in that moment Brian felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It may not have fixed everything but talking things out with Roger really did help. Yes, it finally seemed things were looking up for a change, and Brian was excited to see where it was going to go.

* * *

Brian walked down the long hallway of Imperial college with two bags under each arm, and a coffee in each hand. In the bags were various decorations, and party favors. They were for an event that was put on every year by the school for the staff and students associated with their astronomy department. It was called the Astronomer’s ball. There was food, dancing, and it was a great way to meet new friends. Brian went every year, but usually stayed to himself. This year, one of Brian’s best friends, Anita Dobson, recruited him to help her that afternoon, putting up decorations and thing like that.

Brian made his way to the gymnasium and walked inside. It was empty now, but by Saturday It wouldn’t be.

“Oh, you’re early,” a familiar voice said.

Brian looked behind him to see Anita standing there, clipboard in hand. She was smiling, but Brian could tell she was exhausted. He smiled at her, “Rough morning?”

She groaned, “Yes, I’m metaphorically, and maybe physically dying.”

Brian grinned, and held up one of the coffees, “Would this cheer you up?”

Anita’s face lit up immediately as she hurried over to where Brian stood. When she got to him, she graciously accepted the steaming Styrofoam cup, and took a sip, “Mhhm, my favorite. Did I mention how much I love you?”

“You didn’t, but I’ll be here for another hour, so you have time,” Brian leaned his back against the wall, “Seriously though, you alright?”

“I don’t know, Bri,” Anita said, and ran her hand through her curly brown hair, “This year is just taking a toll on me. I’ve been doing this planning committee bullshit for six years, and I guess I’m just, I don’t know.”

“Burned out?”

“With all my classes and trying to get my acting career off the ground. I literally have no time to plan this stupid party.”

“It’s a ball.”

“It’s driving me insane.”

Brian could understand Anita’s frustration. He felt the same way about his band. As much as he loved practicing and playing with his friends; he was up to his neck in schoolwork and thesis papers. It felt as if he had to make a choice, because at the end of the school year, Brian’s university days would be officially over, and he would have to start focusing on his career. This meant less time with friends, and less time being in a band. He would no longer be Brian May, lead guitarist of the band Queen, but Dr. Brian May, who once had been in a band in uni, but quit due to the fact he’s now too busy discovering the mysteries of deep space. Dr. Brian May, the brilliant astrophysicist, who has a nice house, a nice car, and a lovely wife, who’s expecting their first child. It was the life Brian always thought he wanted. It was the life Brian’s parents had always wanted for him. Why now did it feel like Brian wanted something completely different for himself? Why now was he so unsure?

He looked over at Anita who was going on about everything she needed to have prepared by Saturday, and he smiled. She still had two years left, but she already knew what she wanted. Her doctorates would be her plan B, but ever since Brian had known Anita, he knew she always wanted to act. She didn’t want to do anything but star in plays and film. He remembered staying up late in her dorm room and he’d help her memorize lines for the school play, while she would help him study for exams. They were a good pair, the both of them.

Anita had stopped talking and stared at Brian, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing, just thinking about stuff. I kind of zoned out.”

Anita rolled her eyes, “Well, thanks, Bri. It’s not like I’ve been trying to have a conversation with you for the past five minutes.”

Brian waved his hand dismissively, “It was only for a moment. I understand though, about feeling burned out. You’ve been doing this so long. It’s almost like you feel obligated, like it’s your duty. It’s like the older we get, we have to juggle more and more things, and we have all these responsibilities. It’s like the world is trying to stretch us so thin, and mold us into a certain shape, but it isn’t the shape we want to be. However, we do it anyway, and we become what ever the fuck they want us to be. Not because we want to, but because that’s what’s expected of us.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be a doctor anymore?”

“I do. I love studying space, but I love music too. I just know that when the year is up, I’ll have to choose. The worst part is that no matter what I pick I’ll still feel like I’m letting someone down.”

Anita gave Brian a sad smile and patted him on the back, “If you’re not living your truth, the only person you’re letting down is yourself.”

Brian looked at her and smiled, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey, have you ever thought of becoming a therapist, instead of an actress?”

“Please, I have enough on my plate as it is. Currently, it’s getting everything ready for the Astronomer’s ball. You better come this year by the way.”

“Don’t I every year?”

“Yes, but you’re always such a wallflower.”

“That’s because I had no one to go with.”

“You had me!”

Brian rolled his eyes, “that’s not the same thing. I meant like a date.”

“Well, you have one this year, yeah? Is Chrissie coming?”

“She said she would.”

“Great, then I’ll see you both there. Now, help me put these decorations up.”

“Yeah, yeah, bossy,” Brian teased, and picked up one of the bags.


	7. Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter took longer than expected. Just want to thank everyone for reading and staying invested. Enjoy the chapter!

“How about this?”

Roger, who hadn’t been paying attention until then, looked up from the magazine he was reading to see Freddie holding out another dvd, to which John responded by shaking his head.

Freddie let out an exasperated sigh, “John, my love, you have to pick something.”

Roger focused closer on the dvd and saw that it was _“Monty Python and the Holy Grail”_. He then glanced down at the other movies Freddie had selected, which were also vetoed out by John. There were comedies, fantasy films, rom-coms, and Roger then understood why John was being so critical. Freddie had terrible taste in films.

“How about a sci-fi film? Oh, or action! Do you have any of the _“Fast and the Furious”_ movies?” Roger suggested, setting down his magazine.

Freddie rolled his eyes, “No offense, dear, but you have shit taste in films.”

“ _I_ have shit taste in films?!”

“What about _“A Clockwork Orange”_? I have it downloaded on my computer.”

“Yes,” Roger said, pointing his finger at John, “That is a great movie.”

“No,” Freddie scoffed, “I hate that movie. Brian and Tim are always raving about it. Plus, it’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is gross. That’s the whole point. Transgressive media is supposed to be off-putting, but it also has substance, and a plot. The story has a moral and requires a deeper level of thought. It isn’t just senseless, tasteless violence,” John said.

“Also, 70’s Malcolm McDowell is hot, so shut up,” Roger said.

“Not the point I was trying to make, but yeah,” John said, rolling his eyes.

“Can we please watch something I want for a change?” Freddie pleaded.

“Sure,” John said, crossing his arms, “if you can choose something that doesn’t suck.”

Roger groaned, grabbing one of the couch pillows and shoving his face into it. Freddie and John had been fighting like that all week, and it was really starting to get on Roger’s nerves. They were officially out of their puppy love phase, and now were trying to adjust to the little fights that came with a romantic relationship. For example, not being able to decide on what movie to watch. Roger knew what those little fights could do to a relationship all too well. He had faith in John and Freddie though, which was a lot more than what he started out with when he first met them. It didn’t, however, stop their fighting from being any less annoying.

Suddenly, in the midst of John and Freddie’s bickering, Roger heard a frantic knock on the door, “Oh, thank God,” he said, his voice muffled into the pillow. He lifted his head, and then said, “Come in!”

The door opened, and Brian rushed in. He was all dressed up in a suit and tie. He looked panicked and exasperated.

“Nice suit,” Roger said, ignoring the erratic state his friend was in.

John, however, decided to address Brian head-on, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Yes, aren’t you supposed to be at your space party thing-y?” Freddie questioned.

Brian, who was sweating profusely, only said, “It’s a ball. Also, I just ran up the stairs. You really need to fix the lift.”

“That isn’t the only thing that’s gotten you all riled up. What’s going on?” Freddie went over to Brian and put his hand on the curly headed boy’s shoulder.

“It’s Chrissie,” Brian shook his head, “She can’t come with me to the Astronomer’s ball. She’d forgotten all about it, and I’d been waiting for her. Finally, I got a text back after ringing her for an hour.”

“And?”

“Her manager is making her work overtime. She said it completely slipped her mind that the ball was tonight.”

“All right, go without her then.”

Brian groaned, “I go alone every year. This year I actually had a date, and now…”

“Why don’t you just ask Anita to go with you?” Freddie suggested, trying to be helpful.

“Anita already has a date. I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Well,” Freddie said, “Why don’t you ask someone else? Maybe a friend who’s not doing anything tonight.”

Brian sighed, and made his way to the couch, sitting next to Roger, “No one’s going to be free on a Saturday night. I just won’t go. It’ll piss Anita off to no end, but what else am I supposed to do?” Brian put his head in his hands. He waited for a long moment, before shooting his head up. He looked as if he just had the most brilliant idea, “Would one of you come with me?”

Freddie and John shared a strange look with each other, “Us?” they both said at the same time.

“Why not?”

“Well, Brian,” Freddie said gently, “Wouldn’t you prefer to go with a girl?”

Brian sighed, “Yes, actually, I’d prefer my girlfriend, but obviously things have changed. Don’t think of it as a date per say, just hanging out.”

“Brian.”

“Please, Fred, I just don’t want to be the guy standing near the wall, or the annoying friend that hangs around the other couples. That’s what ends up happening every year, and It’s embarrassing. I just need to borrow one of you for three hours.”

“Well maybe,” Freddie chewed his lip, “It’s just, John and I were wanting to stay home tonight and watch a movie,” he said, and then went quiet. He looked as if he was in deep thought, rubbing his chin, “Oh!” Freddie’s entire face lit up, “What about Roger?”

“Roger?” Brian’s face reddened.

“Roger?” Roger mirrored Brian.

“Roger,” Freddie confirmed, grinning ear to ear.

“There seems to be an echo in here,” John remarked.

“I, uh, I don’t know, Freddie,” Brian said.

“Why not? Roger loves a good party.”

“Yes, a party where I could get pissed out of my mind and take home some random stranger to sleep with. I don’t think I’ll get anything like that at Brian’s ball,” Roger said, but then quickly added, “No offense, mate. Plus, I don’t think you’d want to show up with me on your arm in front of your doctor friends. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Roger picked at the pillow in his hand. He kept his eyes trained on his lap. He knew Brian was watching him intently.

“Actually, Fred,” Brian said, his eyes still on Roger, “After thinking about it, I think that’s a wonderful suggestion. Roger, would you like to go to the Astronomer’s ball with me?”

“No.”

“Roger, please,” Brian said, “You are quite literally my last hope. Plus,” Brian’s faced reddened again, “I’d really like to have a friend there with me.”

Roger stared up at Brian, and he noticed the sheer desperation in Brian’s eyes. He laughed nervously, “Well, I don’t even have a dress,” he joked.

“If you’re looking for something formal, I have all kinds of suits if you need to borrow one,” Freddie offered.

“Thanks, Freddie,” Roger grumbled, trying to think of another excuse to why he couldn’t go, “What about John and Freddie?” Roger said finally, “I promised to watch a movie with them tonight.” Roger knew it was a lame excuse but going to a ball with Brian was the last thing he wanted to do.

John rolled his eyes, “You didn’t promise us anything. Go with Brian, Rog. There will be other movie nights. Besides, it’s been a while since Fred and I had time alone.”

Even if John hadn’t meant to. That statement hit Roger like a ton of bricks. Was he John and Freddie’s third wheel? Roger though back to all the times he’s tagged along with John and Freddie when he had nothing to do. He then realized that for the past few months, in fact, since he’d moved to London, he hadn’t done much of anything with anybody. It was either hanging around Freddie and his friends, staying home, or going to the pub. Now that Roger thought of it, he hadn’t been on a proper date since him and Dom broke up. Of course, there were those regular scheduled “hook-up’s” Roger labeled as dates, but those didn’t count. Maybe Roger needed this. Even if the date wasn’t romantic, it might just get him out of his funk. Besides, it was a good reason to get out of the house.

Roger sighed, and then looked down at the clothes he was wearing. It was a worn-out t-shirt, and sweats that had an ice cream stain on it, _‘Fuck me, this is really depressing,’_ he thought to himself. He looked back up at Brian, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

Brian let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Roger. This really means a lot to me.”

Roger nodded, and then looked over to Freddie, “Is there any way you could help me not look like shit?”

Freddie grinned, “I suppose. Luckily, I’m an expert,” Freddie walked over to Roger and pulled him up off the couch, “Just give us fifteen minutes,” he said to Brian, and then ushered Roger into his room and closed the door behind them.

Roger turned to Freddie, “Fifteen minutes? Can you really fix me up in that short of time?”

“Roger, one time I overslept for a job interview after getting plastered at a night club. I was laying there with a killer hangover and vomit on my clothes. I had gotten ready in five minutes.”

“That’s actually sort of inspirational, mate. Albeit, in a really weird and kind of gross way. Did you end up getting the job?”

“Oh, no. Accidentally set my alarm to ten pm, instead of ten am. Didn’t realize until I stepped outside and it was dark.”

Roger gave him a weird look, “All right then.”

Freddie smiled at him, and then turned to his closet, opening it, “Let’s see here,” he moved some clothes back and forth. Freddie searched through his suits, mumbling to himself until he finally stopped on one. He pulled it out carefully, and then presented it to Roger.

Roger stared at the suit. It was a very nice red silk suit. Too nice, in fact. Roger stepped forward and ran his hand over the material, “I don’t know, Fred.”

“What, you don’t like it? Is it too flashy, dear? Be honest.”

“No, nothing like that,” he mumbled, “It’s just…” Roger trailed off as he thought back to a time when he had just arrived in London. It was raining, and he was riding the bus home from a class. He remembered passing fancy shops that had lovely clothes on display, and he remembered how jealous he was. He recalled the feeling of desperation. Suddenly, Roger brought himself back. He still held the silk material in his fingers.

“You all right, Roger?”

Roger shook his head, as if to shake the memory out of him, “Sorry. It’s just that, uh, it’s a nice suit, but I couldn’t wear anything like this. How’d you even afford this anyway?”

“Oh, I dated some rich bloke, who liked to buy me all sorts of things like this. Had to break it off, however. The bastard was cheating on me. Also, you _can_ wear this suit. It you like it, then you should wear it.”

“But-”

“No buts! Unless it’s your butt getting into that suit,” Freddie winked, and then pushed the suit into Roger’s hands.

Roger apprehensively held on to it. He sighed and laid the suit on Freddie’s bed. He then proceeded to strip off his clothes.

“Here,” Freddie said, and tossed Roger some deodorant, which Roger caught in one hand.

Roger put the suit on, and it fit pretty well. It was a little longer in some places due to Roger being a bit stouter than Freddie, but all and all Roger felt really good in it. When he was finished, Roger stood back to look at himself in Freddie’s vanity mirror. He had to admit to himself, he looked and felt amazing.

Freddie wolf whistled, “Looking good, Taylor. Now, come over here so I can do your hair and make-up.”

Roger raised his brow, “Gonna paint my nails too?”

Freddie rolled his eyes, “Just a bit of foundation won’t hurt you, and you really need to do something with that rat’s nest you call hair.”

“Oi,” Roger protested, as he made his way over to Freddie who held a small bag.

“Sit,” he said, as he rummaged through the make-up bag, “Now, obviously my skin is darker than yours, so you won’t be using mine, but luckily, Mary keeps some of her stuff in here. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Roger sat hesitantly on the edge of Freddie’s bed, and let the older boy get to work. As he sat there, Roger started to think about what he’d really gotten himself into. He was going to a school dance with Brian.

About ten minutes later there was a knock. Brian’s voice rang soft through the door, “Fred, I’m already twenty minutes late. Is Roger ready yet?”

“Just a moment, dear,” Freddie called out, and then put the hair brush down. He grabbed a can of hairspray and sprayed it on Roger’s hair.

“Freddie,” Roger coughed as toxic hairspray fumes filled his nostrils. Before Roger could say anything else, Freddie pulled him up and dragged him back towards the mirror. Roger stood in front of it and stared at himself. In his opinion, he didn’t look half bad for someone who’d gotten ready in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t look that different, Fred.”

“With what I was given to work with, and the amount of time I was given? Are you serious? I should charge you!” Freddie exclaimed.

“All right, all right.”

“ _I don’t look that different, Fred,_ ” Freddie mocked, “I’m not a miracle worker, y’know? There’s only so much you can do with a brush.”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Oh will you come off it?” he grumbled, reaching for the door.

“Wait,” Freddie said, and then sprayed Roger with cologne when the younger boy turned around.

Roger coughed, and then waved his hands in front of his face, “Stop trying to poison me!”

Freddie ignored him and then opened the door, “Brian,” he said with a sly smile on his face, “he’s ready for you.”

Roger turned back towards the door to see Brian standing there looking sheepish. He smiled, and then Brian smiled back.”

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks,” Roger said, feeling his heart leap into his throat. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Roger then shook the feeling off, and pushed past Brian, “You said you were late?” he said, making his way towards the door.

“Right,” Brian said, already on Roger’s heels.

“You two have fun,” John said as they both passed him.

“You too,” Roger said, not looking back, “Have fun railing Freddie on the couch, while I have to listen to some space geek explain black holes to me.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t fuck on the couch. We’re not animals,” Freddie said from the doorway to his room, “Now, Bri, don’t you two be out too late. Roger gets cranky when it’s past his bedtime.”

In response Roger gave Freddie the finger, while Brian laughed and shut the door behind them.

They were both quiet on the way to Imperial college. There wasn’t much to say between the two of them and Roger wouldn’t know what to say even if there was. When he hung out with Brian, it was always with other people. On the few occasions they did hang out alone, it always seemed to end in awkwardness. However, Roger was willing to try for Brian’s sake. He did invite Roger, after all.

“You’ve been quiet,” Brian commented, when they finally made it to Brian’s school.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Just about how lame you are.”

Brian smiled a bit at that, “Funny, but I get it if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Roger gave Brian a short nod. He was grateful Brian didn’t pry.

They both got out once Brian parked the car. Roger then followed Brian up the stair and into the main entrance. It was weird. He had been to this school many times before and he had no problem. However, being there at night with Brian, made Roger feel different. He didn’t know how to explain it.

“So, what now?” Roger said once he and Brian walked through the double doors to the gymnasium.

“Well, I guess we could look around for Anita,” he said, looking past Roger.

“That’s your friend, right? The one that was going to beat you arse if you didn’t come?”

“Yeah, she’s assertive, but in a good way. Kind of like you.”

“Hey,” Roger snapped playfully, whacking Brian on the arm.

“It was a compliment.”

“Sure,” Roger rolled his eyes, “Want to get some punch?”

Brian nodded, still looking around for Anita, “Yeah, that would be fine. Maybe we’ll find her over there.”

Roger agreed, and they both walked over to the punch table. Roger glanced at the giant glass bowl containing bright red liquid. It had pieces of fruit in it as well. He reached out for a cup filled with ice, and then poured the fruit punch in it. He handed one to Brian, before filling his own.

Brian accepted it graciously, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Brian glanced around the room again until suddenly he stopped. He patted Roger’s shoulder, “There she is,” he said, and then called out her name, waving towards her to get her attention.

Roger watched a girl with curly brown hair turn her head to face them. When she spotted Brian she waved enthusiastically, and then walked over to them.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Anita said when she arrived at the punch table. She gave Brian a quick hug, “Freddie texted me and said you were on your way, but Chrissie couldn’t make it.”

“Her manager is making her work overtime, so I brought a friend.”

“A friend?” Anita raised a brow, and then focused her attention on Roger, “I’m assuming that would be you.”

“Anita, this is Roger Taylor, he’s our band’s new drummer. Roger, this is Anita Dobson. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Nice to meet you,” Roger said, putting his hand out to shake Anita’s, but she surprised him by pulling Roger into a tight hug.

“No need for formalities, love. Any friend of Brian’s is a friend of mine.”

Roger was shocked, and he then looked up to Brian for some clarification, but Brian only gave him a small smile and a shake of the head.

“All right, all right, let him breathe, Dobson,” Brian laughed.

“It’s fine, Brian. I tend to have this effect on women.”

Anita let go, but was grinning ear to ear, “I’m just so happy you came, Bri.”

Brian nodded, “Well, everything turned out great. You’ve truly outdone yourself this year.”

Anita blushed, and looked about ready to say something else when her phone buzzed, “Damn,” she muttered, “It’s my date.”

“Is there a problem?” Brian questioned.

Anita scoffed, “He’s just upset that I’m not spending every second with him. He’s kind of boring, if you ask me. He’s definitely clingy. I should go.”

“Well, come find us later then, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Anita said, and then she turned to Roger, “It was great to meet you, Roger. Don’t let Brian just sit around all night. It’s like he’s always the guy just sitting in the back of the room.”

“Wow, thanks,” Brian said, “I’m right here by the way.”

Anita waved her hand dismissively, “Oh you know I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving to her as she left.

Roger watched Anita leave, and decided that he liked her. He looked over to Brian who turned to face him and smiled.

“Want to find some place to sit down?”

* * *

As the dance went on, Roger had conceded that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. He was nervous at first, of course, even if Roger was too prideful to admit it. Sure, he considered himself a smart guy, but most of Brian’s collogues were studying to be doctors. Besides, Roger didn’t really know anything about space. It wasn’t because he didn’t find it interesting, but Roger wouldn’t spend eight years of his life devoted to studying it.

Another problem was Brian himself. Over the past few weeks, Roger had been trying his very best not to complicate the already complicated relationship he and Brian had. It wasn’t like Roger was in love with the guy; it hadn’t gotten that bad. Though he would be lying if Brian didn’t stir up some uncomfortable emotions lying deep within himself. It was all very hard to understand. That was why Roger rejected Brian’s offer to go to his ball in the first place. Being with Brian, being close to Brian, would just cause more confusion.

Roger shook his head, not wanting to think of his feelings for Brian anymore. Instead, he turned his attention to the sea of people on the dance floor in front of them. He watched them dance and laugh, and Roger smiled to himself. Who knew doctors liked to party?

“What are you smiling about?” Brian said, nudging Roger gently with his elbow.

“Just people watching. I didn’t know astrophysicists liked to party this hard.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re a real wild bunch,” Brian mused.

Roger shook his head, giggling, “Y’know I must admit I was wrong. I’m having a better time than I thought I was going to.”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Haha.”

“What, you think I’m lying to you?”

Brian shrugged, “I just thought it would be a cold day in hell, before Roger Taylor admitted he was wrong about something.”

Roger laughed, “Fair enough.”

Brian laughed, and then turned his attention to the dance floor. He seemed to be content with just sitting there and staring.

Roger watched him, wondering if Brian had longed to be out there on the floor. To dance with someone. To relax and have a good time for one, instead of always looking over his shoulder. Always afraid of being judged. From what Roger had observed from tonight, was that Brian didn’t like being out of his comfort zone. Anita even said it herself, that Brian had always been the guy in the back of the room. It made Roger a little sad to think about it. He had always been somewhat of an outgoing person, but when Roger thought about it, he too had those days where he just sat in watched. He’d always feel like an outsider looking in. Maybe that was how Brian felt. Maybe he just wanted to feel included.

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Brian almost choked on his punch, “What?”

“I said,” Roger stated, as he got up to stand in front of Brian, “Do you want to dance with me?” He held out his hand.

Brian fumbled for a response, “I don’t know, Roger. What if people talk?”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Try not to care so much, rocket boy. Besides, it’s just a dance between two mates, nothing more than that.”

“Nothing more than that?” Brian repeated hesitantly. He bit his lip, scanning the area.

“Well? I don’t have all night, Dr. May.”

Brian looked back up at Roger, “All right. Just one dance. I’m not very good. I have two left feet.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said, pulling Brian up to his feet. He then dragged Brian to the middle of the dance floor. The music was soft and lulling. People all around them, were holding on to each other, swaying to the gentle melody. Roger grinned, as he wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck.

Brian instinctively wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist, and they gently guided each other to move along with everyone else and the music.

Roger felt like he was floating on air. Having Brian touch his hips made every nerve in his body tingle. He could feel a swell in his chest, and he gazed up into Brian’s big brown eyes. “You liar,” he teased.

“What?”

“You _can_ dance.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call this dancing,” Brian shrugged.

Roger shook his head with a laugh, and then rested it on Brian’s chest, “I’m really glad you invited me tonight, Brian.”

“I’m glad you came,” Brian admitted, and he held Roger as they danced.

Roger let the music carry him, and he and Brian stayed like that for a while, and then, suddenly, Roger felt Brian jolt to a stop, “Wha-?”

Roger looked up to see Brian staring past him. Roger turned around to see two guys towards the other side of the room. They were whispering to each other, snickering and staring at him and Brian. Roger turned back to see Brian’s face as white as a ghost. “Don’t pay attention to those assholes, Brian. We aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s just dancing.”

“I need to get some air,” he muttered, pushing past Roger, heading towards the door.

“Brian, wait!” Roger called out, but Brian was already gone. Roger stood there in a sea of people, who paid no mind to him at all. He stayed there for a moment, staring at the door. He didn’t understand, they were having a good time. Roger looked back at the two guys who were staring before. They both were engaged in conversation with someone else. If they were alone, Roger would go over there and give them a piece of his mind. However, he wouldn’t, because he didn’t want to embarrass Brian more than he already had that night. Instead, he walked toward the doors to go look for the other boy.

Roger stepped outside into the cold night. He instinctively put his arms around his shoulders. It would get colder, since it was only the end of November, but it was still freezing outside.

Roger let out a huff, scuffling around, looking for Brian. Finally, he found him sitting on a bench, staring up at the sky. Roger watched Brian carefully from where he stood, wondering if he should go talk to him, or if he should go back inside. Roger could understand Brian’s need for space and wanting to be alone, but Roger also understood that lack of communication is what caused so much unnecessary drama between him and Brian in the first place.

He then stepped a little closer to Brian, and Roger could see him fiddling with his necklace. He stopped suddenly when a twig snapped under his foot, causing the curly haired boy to turn around.

Brian stared at him, eyes shining with tears. He had such a hopeless look to him.

Roger stared back, neither him nor Brian, spoke a word. They just watched each other, and it felt as if nothing moved around them, and nothing changed. It was as if they were in their own little world. However, Roger did feel a shift in atmosphere when Brian patted the spot next to him.

Wordlessly, Roger made his way over to Brian, taking a seat next to him.

They both sat there for a moment, still not speaking. Roger watched straight ahead, looking at the trees, noticing that most of them had already lost all their leaves. It was the signs of autumn dying and winter coming in to take its place. The wind picked up a bit then, and he could feel the night air brush against his already rosy cheeks. He could feel his nose starting to get red, as he kept looking forward, realizing that he could see his own breath. It was nice, Roger thought, being with Brian like this.

“It’s so lovely out tonight,” a soft, yet raspy voice said.

It took a second for him to realize it was Brian that said it, and Roger turned his head up to look at him.

“Fall is wonderful, don’t get me wrong. However, there is something about winter, a strange beauty you might say. I think it’s because it’s a season that represents loss. The bugs hide or die off, plants go dormant, animals go into hibernation. Everything is gone, and it’s like you can feel their absence, and it’s all covered in a white blanket of snow. It’s so melancholy, or bittersweet? Winter is such a strange and beautiful season,” Brian turned to Roger then, “Did you ever think of that?”

“Can’t say that I have. Although, I enjoy how you said it. It makes sense.”

Brian smiled, and wiped at his wet eyes, “You must be tired of seeing me blubber like a baby.”

“You’re just a sensitive guy,” Roger said, and Brian let out a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Roger. I must seem all over the place tonight. Making you come with me, and leaving you like I did. I must have ruined your evening.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Brian. I’m having a nice time.

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m serious! Do you know this is the first time in months I’ve been out with someone where it wasn’t at a bar, or with a group, or Freddie wasn’t with me? Did you know that was the first real dance I’d had since my last girlfriend? Where it wasn’t just drunk people grinding on me in a club, but a genuine dance. I’m having a lovely time with you tonight, Brian.”

“But I ran out on you.”

“Yeah, because those wankers were laughing at us. It isn’t your fault. You needed some space to work through some things. Trust me, I get it.”

Brian shook his head and looked down at his hands, “It wasn’t just them. I think I’m starting to realize things about myself, and I’m just so confused. I don’t know what to do, or how to feel, or which way to go. I feel like I’m hurting people, because I can’t make up my mind. I keep hurting the people I love, because I can’t-” Brian couldn’t even finish his sentence, his lip started to tremble.

“Hey,” Roger reached out and rubbed Brian’s back, “you don’t have to say anything. It’s ok to be confused.”

“Not at the expense of people I care about.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that, so he decided to change the subject, “The stars are really pretty tonight.”

Brian looked up from his lap and up at the sky, “Yeah, they are.”

“Do you usually look out at the stars to feel better.”

“Yeah.”

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you decide to study astrophysics?”

“It was just something I’ve always been interested in. Space, and the star, and all the wonderful things that we’ve discovered, and have yet to discover.”

“Have you always wanted to study it? Even as a kid?”

“My dad and I would bond by building things together. We’d build things like telescopes and rockets. I think that was when I first got into it. That, and of course sci-fi comic books. Though, I think the biggest thing for me, was a story my grandfather would tell me when I was a little boy. It was a story about how he met a girl at a friend’s house, who was a mutual friend of them both at the time. They were all there to watch the moon landing on the telly, and afterwards he and the girl snuck off to the roof to look up at the stars together. My grandfather told me that was the night he met, and fell in love with, my grandmother.”

Roger let out a surprise laugh, “Wow, talk about fate.”

“I think that story, along with the time I shared with my father, building model rockets and telescopes, would attribute to my love for space,” Brian’s face broke into a smile then, a genuine smile, “What I wouldn’t give to see what the stars looked like on that night. It was such a monumental moment not only for space travel, but for my family.”

Roger nodded, “It’s nice that your dad would spend time with you like that.”

“Yeah,” Brian said wistfully, “He also helped me build my guitar. Did your dad ever do things like that with you?”

Roger looked away then, his face had visibly fallen, “Yeah, sometimes when I was little, but those were lifetimes ago,” he said, not taking a chance on looking up. He knew Brian was studying him.

“I see. Well, what about your mother?”

Roger then looked up at Brian with a smile, “Oh, my mum’s the most amazing woman on earth. She raised my sister and I as a single mother for most of our teenage years. She’s the kindest, and most badass person you will ever meet.”

“Oh, you have a sister?”

Roger nodded, “She’s nineteen. She goes to school close to home.”

“Are you and your sister a lot alike?”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Yeah, she’s basically me with tits. My mum always jokes that we could be mistaken for twins.”

Brian laughed, “The trouble you two must get into then.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how my mother tolerated us when we were younger,” he giggled. Roger then stared straight ahead, a forlorn look on his face, “I miss them.”

“I bet,” Brian said sympathetically, “Living five hours away and all that.”

“I try to call when I can, but sometimes I get so wrapped up in myself. I’ll go weeks without speaking to either of them, even if they call me first.”

“You’re busy. I’m sure they understand that.”

“Too busy to pick up the phone and call them?”

“Well…” Brian trailed off. He was quiet after that. They both sat there in silence for a moment until Brian piped up again, “I wish I had a sister.”

“Hm?”

I was just saying that I wish I had a sister,” Brian thought for a second and then added, “or a brother. A brother would have been nice too.”

“You an only child?”

Brian nodded, “I sometimes get sad thinking about it. I mean, I feel like I missed out on a universal childhood experience, not being able to fight with my siblings. I always get a little jealous when John or Freddie talk about their sisters.”

“I bet you got a lot of attention from your parents though.”

“Oh, I did,” Brian agreed, “Maybe too much if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was rather sheltered as a child. My parents loved me a lot, and of course they still do obviously, but I feel like they sometimes kept me in a cage. I never got to experience a lot of things, because I was always in my room studying. I don’t know, I just feel like I missed the boat. Like I’m incomplete somehow.”

Roger pondered on that for a moment, and then said, “Maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe what you’ve been missing still needs to be found.”

Something in Brian’s expression changed then. It was a look of awe and bewilderment. However as soon as it came, the look vanished as he looked down at his lap again. He wasn’t staring at anything, but he did start fiddling with his necklace again.

Roger watched him, and he knew he shouldn’t have asked, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, “Hey, Bri, can I ask you another question?”

Brian, whose cheeks were even redder now as he looked back at Roger, “Yeah?”

“I know it isn’t my place to ask, mate, but what’s the deal with the necklace? I know you said it a friend gave it to you, but I don’t know, I guess I’m just curious about it.”

Brian, who was still rubbing at the pendant around his neck, spoke softly, “I don’t know if I should tell you, Roger. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” Roger said, and then he got an idea, “Would it help if I told you something personal about me?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Anything you want to know.”

“Anything, huh?” Brian rubbed his chin, “Alright.”

“Ok, you go first.”

“Hey, this was your idea. What happens if I go, and then you don’t tell me anything?”

Roger chuckled, “That’s fair I guess, but don’t you trust me?”

Brian studied him intensely, and then with a slight nod, he sighed, “His name was Daniel. He and I grew up in the same neighborhood, he was six years older than me. When I was younger, both of my parents worked, and Daniel would babysit me after school. He was a really great guy, he’d help me with my school work, he’d play games with me in the yard, he taught me a lot about the world,” Brian couldn’t help but smile, “He’d always say to me, “Be happy in the moment, Brian.” Then he would pull out this old necklace with a peace symbol on it, from around his neck.”

“Mother Teresa.”

“What?”

“Be happy in the moment. It’s a quote from Mother Teresa,” Roger said, “Be happy in the moment, that's enough. Each moment is all we need, not more.”

“Oh,” Brian was caught off guard, “where did you learn that?”

“Catholic school.”

“You went to Catholic school?”

“Hey,” Roger smiled, “This is about you and your story, not mine. Also, your friend sound like a pretty cool guy. Are you two still friends?”

Brian’s face dropped, he looked as if a dark force swept over him. He looked about ready to cry again.

Roger then realized his mistake. In Brian’s story, he was only using past tense. “He _was_ a really great guy.” Roger felt sick to his stomach, “Oh,” he mumbled, “Oh, Brian, I’m really sorry.”

“He was only seventeen. He gave me the necklace a few weeks before he died. It’s all I have left of him now,” Brian said, his voice barely a whisper, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Roger,” Brian muttered, wiping at his eyes.

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry I pushed.”

Brian shook his head, “S’all right, I’ll be ok.”

“I guess it’s your turn to ask me something now.”

Brian visibly brightened at that, “Yeah. Anything I want, right?”

“Anything,” Roger shrugged.

Brian waited for a few moments, obviously thinking about what he wanted to ask Roger. Finally, he had something, “All right, I got one.”

“Lay it on me.”

“My question for you, Mr. Roger Taylor, is why don’t I ever see you driving a car?”

Roger busted out laughing then, “What?”

“I’ve never seen you drive a car. You don’t have one of your own, but you never ask to drive mine or John’s, even though you know we’d let you, and it would be easier than taking a bus, or the tube. I know you know how to drive. I see you reading magazines about cars, and you’re always talking about them with John. You’re always correcting everyone’s driving. Hell, you’ve done it to me more times than I can count. So, I want to know, why you don’t drive.”

“Mate, I gave you a pass to ask me anything. You could ask me _anything_ you want, no matter how personal, and you fucking ask that? Where’s the creativity?”

Brian shrugged, “It’s something I’m really curious about.”

“You really wanna know?” Roger raised a brow when Brian nodded. He sighed, “Well, if you _must_ know, I do know how to drive. I drive very well, actually. Better than any of you wankers anyway.”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Then why don’t you do it, hot shot?”

“I got my license suspended for a year.”

Brian’s eyes widened, “You’re joking?”

Roger shook his head, “I’m completely serious. I got it revoked a few months before I came to London.”

“How?”

“I ended things badly with my ex, Dominique. I won’t go into detail, but a lot of it was my own fault. When it ended, I had gotten shitfaced, and I drove to her flat, and I spray painted a bunch of terrible words on the side of her car. When I drove off, I wasn’t paying attention and a deer jumped out in front of me, and I swerved and hit a tree.”

“Oh, my God.”

It’s a miracle I didn’t get anything but a few scrapes and bruises. I totaled my fucking car though.”

“Really?”

“Yup, I’m completely serious. My dad bailed me out. Dom didn’t press charges, so I guess that’s a good thing. If you ask me, I deserved so much worse. I was such a fucking prick. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Brian didn’t say anything, and they both sat there in silence again.

Roger felt a gust of wind and he shivered, “Shit.”

Brian glanced down at him, “Cold?”

“Yeah.”

Brian put his arm around the younger boy, pulling him close.

Roger stiffened at first, but then relaxed into Brian’s warm body. He was glad it was dark, or it would have been obvious to Brian that Roger was blushing. Roger then looked up to see Brian staring down at him. He could feel Brian’s warm breath on his face, “Bri?”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“I-”

“Hey, what are you two doing out here?” A voice called out suddenly, causing the two boys to break apart.

Anita was standing behind them, hands on her hips. She didn’t look very amused.

“Just talking,” Brian said as he turned around to face her.

Roger stood up next to him, “We both wanted some fresh air.”

Anita rolled her eyes, “Well, come back inside. It’s freezing out here, and it’s getting boring in there without you two.”

“Your date not keeping you entertained?” Brian laughed.

“Oh, he fucked off about twenty minutes ago. Probably for the best. He couldn’t handle me.”

“Now, that I believe,” Brian said, following Anita back towards the school.

Roger smiled at their playful banter, and then he followed them both back into the school. He watched Brian carefully as he chatted with Anita all the way back. He thought about how someone like Brian, could be so simple and plain on the outside, but on the inside was a very complicated individual. It made Roger yearn to know everything about him. It surprised him a little, because in the beginning, when he moved to London, Roger didn’t want to know anybody. However, being with people like Brian, made getting to know a person not a waste of time. Brian, in Roger’s eyes, made it all feel worthwhile.


	8. Brian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I am so sorry that it's taken me almost two months to update this story. I haven't had much time to write since I've been in the process of buying a home, and I'll be moving soon. Hopefully the next chapter wont take so long, and when my living situation has changed I should be able to get more chapters out faster than I do now. Let's hope anyway! Just wanted to say thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

When the morning after the Astronomer’s ball rolled around, Brian was surprised to see Chrissie wasn’t in bed with him. She usually would wake him on weekends, so they could grab breakfast together. It wasn’t often that they would get mornings to themselves, what with classes and everything, but weekend mornings usually were uneventful. Unless, of course, Brian had band practice.

Brian instinctively pulled out his phone and checked to see if Chrissie had texted him. He was unsurprised to see one new message. However, it wasn’t from Chrissie, but from his mother. The text said that she wanted Brian to visit today. That it had been a long while since he stopped by for a visit.

She was right, of course. However, it wasn’t because Brian didn’t want to see his parents, or that his schedule was too full. Brian simply had been avoiding his parents, because if they talked to him, they’d realize something was wrong. They’d figure out Brian’s internal struggles, and he couldn’t have that. He wasn’t ready for them to know yet.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust them either. Brian had always had a good relationship with his parents. No matter what happened to him, he could always tell his parents his problems. Brian was always sure he could tell his parents everything. That was, until recently.

With a sigh, Brian had gotten dressed, skipping breakfast, and abandoned on texting Chrissie entirely. He knew that if he kept avoiding his parents then that would be cause for more suspicion. So, Brian sent a quick text to assure he’d be over soon and left the flat.

When he arrived at his parents’ house, he didn’t knock. He had no need to. He had a key made, and his parents always encouraged him to come over whenever he wanted to. He already knew the house would be empty, thanks to a text his mother sent him saying that she and his father were at the store, and that they’d be home soon. So, Brian had some down time.

He walked into the living room, setting his stuff down on the end table. He then eyed the grand piano sitting in the corner. He’d always loved playing on it when he was younger. Suddenly, he had an urge to go over and play, and before he knew it, he was seated in front of the piano.

He learned how to play at a very young age. Brian remembered not liking it very much at first, but he soon realized, once he’d gotten a little more skilled, that the piano was a great stress reliever.

Brian’s hands danced delicately over the keys. One stroke after the other, he let his intuition guide him, resulting in a soft melody that drifted from his fingertips, filling the silent, empty room. In this moment, Brian felt completely content, as he let all his confusion, anger, and regret seep out onto the piano. It brought him back to simpler times. It took him to his own little world.

In this world there weren’t any decisions to be made, or trials to face. He felt his own persecution vanish when his fingers pushed down on the beautiful ivory keys. There was no Chrissie, there was no Roger, or John, or Freddie, or anybody. It was just him. He could feel the music enter his body, going in through his ears and out his nose, he could feel it coursing through his bloodstream. However, in equal measure, he felt himself in the music. He was it, and it was him. When Brian was lost in the song, in the music, and in the moment, there wasn’t anything else. There couldn’t be. It was his only salvation, and it was his demise. A blessing and a curse. Because, when Brian is his music, his art, he is truth. However, Brian couldn’t have it both ways. This couldn’t be his distraction, and his truth. It would eventually cave in on himself.

Brian cursed as his finger slipped and caused himself to mess up. He knew it. He knew he couldn’t have anything sacred. Now, even his music was tainted with visions of long golden hair, and sapphire eyes. Brian couldn’t take it anymore, this was hell. This was _his_ hell.

With a huff, he decided to play something he knew. His fingers started back up again in a new wave of fiery passion, as Brian stared intensely at his own hands. The soft sounds of Claude Debussy filled the once again silent room. The song, one of Brian’s favorites, filled his chest with new meaning. Something that he’d played time and time again with no emotional attachment, now made him yearn and ache, and desire. His heart pounded as he continued playing the sweet song. Every note pierced his heart as his mind was on a loop and played one word over and over in his head, _“Roger.”_

It hurt worse the more Brian went on, and he had to stop. However, as the music stopped flowing, Brian could still hear his mind chant Roger’s name. He was exasperated now. It was never going to end. Brian had no idea when this infatuation for his band mate would end. It only seemed to be getting worse the more Brian ignored it. Brian couldn’t go on like this, it was physically hurting him.

“Still as sharp as ever on that thing, eh? Glad you haven’t forgotten you roots,” A voice said, causing Brian to turn around in a panic.

Brian’s dad stood there, hands filled with groceries and a big smile on his face, “Sorry, son, I didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want to interrupt your playing.”

Brian stared for a moment and then his face broke out into a sheepish grin, “No worries, dad. I was just messing around until you got back. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before.”

“Right, right, you were always a fan of Debussy. What was it called again? Ah, yes, La fille aux cheveux de lin.”

_‘More like, le garcon aux cheveux de lin,’_ he thought. Brian’s face heated up. “Right,” he muttered.

It was then when Brian’s mother appeared in the archway, with two grocery bags of her own, “Hello, dear, playing a song, are you?”

Brian smiled and gotten up from where he was sitting. He went over to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Just brushing up on my piano skills. Need help with those, mum?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Here, let me put these up. Harold, just set those bags in the kitchen, love. I’ve got it.”

“No help from me either?” His father raised a brow.

“It’s just a few things. Besides, wasn’t there something you wanted to show Brian in your workshop?”

Harold’s face brightened, “Yes! Thank you for the reminder, Ruth,” he looked over to Brian, “Mind coming down with me to the old Science Laboratory?”

Brian rolled his eyes affectionately at the nickname Brian had given his father’s workshop many years ago, “Sure, why not?”

It wasn’t until Brian and his father had gotten to the door when his mother called out, “Hey, when you two are finished, I’ll have some snacks waiting up here for you guys. Oh, and Brian, you could tell me all about the Astronomer’s ball. That was last night, wasn’t it? I want to hear all about it.”

Brian winced internally, “Right, mum. I will,” he said, and then followed his father out the front door.

His father’s workshop wasn’t anything magical. It was in a small shed that had come with the property when Brian’s parents first moved in. Brian had been an infant then, and he grew to watch his father come up with and create wonderful things. He remembered when his father would come home after work excited, showing Brian drawings on blueprint sheets that he’d scribbled throughout the day. Then, when his father would get a day off work, they’d spend the entire day building. Brian would come up with ideas too, and they’d spent time on those as well. It seemed like there wasn’t anything they couldn’t create in that old shed. It filled Brian with warm memories every time he walked through the door. This was where they built his guitar.

“So, Brian, how’s life been treating you?”

“I’ve been doing ok,” Brian said, with a faux smile. Unfortunately, his father could see right through it.

“Ok, huh?” Brian’s father stopped at the door to the workshop. He turned to face his son.

“Yeah, ok. Nothing’s really been going on.”

“Grades are good? How’s school?”

“Uni’s fine, and I’m still at the top of my class.”

“How’s your band?”

“The band’s good. Freddie’s trying to book us more gigs.”

“Hmm, yes, well as long as it doesn’t affect your schoolwork.”

“I know, dad. It hasn’t so far.”

His father rubbed his chin for a moment, “Everything all right with you and Chrissie?”

Brian tensed immediately, “We’re, uh, we’re doing fine.”

It was obvious that Brian was lying. Brian’s dad shook his head and turned back around to open the door, “Step into my office, son.”

Brian visibly gulped as he walked past his dad and into the shed. He watched his father shut the door behind them. He waited a moment to see what his father would say. Brian knew his father. He wouldn’t pry if Brian didn’t want to talk, but the fact that now his father _knew_ something was up between him and Chrissie, made Brian feel a heavy weight of dread wash over him.

His father said nothing. He silently walked past Brian, going straight to his work bench. Next to the bench was a large object hidden under a white cloth. Brian’s father turned and smiled, “Are you ready?”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Brian was so nervous now. He could feel his hands start to sweat.

“For what I brought you down here for, of course! I want to show you what I’ve been working on,” his father said gleefully. He then pulled the cloth away to reveal a grandfather clock.

Brian marveled at it, circling around the object to get a better look, “Wow, dad.”

“Isn’t it brilliant? I think I’ve found a hobby worth pursuing once I retire. What do you say, son?”

Brian smiled, “It is beautiful, but I don’t want to hear you talk about retiring. You’re not that old yet.”

Harold chuckled, “I’m glad you feel that way, son, but time marches forward whether we want it to or not,” he said, but then stopped and looked at the clock, realizing the unintentional pun he’d just made, “Ha, clock! Time! Get it?”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Yeah, dad, I get it. Also, only you would find relaxation in clock making. Why don’t you do what normal dad’s do, like play golf?”

“Oh, golf, what an inane sport,” his father grumbled, “And it isn’t even a bit relaxing. It’s more frustrating than anything.”

Brian nodded, running his hand over the smooth wooden frame, “Uh huh. Say, dad, does this thing even work?”

“It will. I’ve got a few bugs I need to fix, and then she’ll be ticking in no time. You see, Brian, A clock has complicated mechanics, and sometimes they don’t turn out how you expected them to. Which can be true for a lot of things. Like, for example, maybe a relationship.”

Brian stopped short, his hand rested on the clock, “Oh, yeah?” he mumbled. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes.

“You know, Brian, I’m here to talk. If you need me, of course.”

Brian nodded, feeling agitated. He let out a sigh of frustration, “I appreciate it, dad, I do. But I really don’t want to talk about it now.”

His father nodded his head, “It’s all right, son. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

Brian smiled appreciatively.

“Well, I think your mother probably has all the groceries put away. Why don’t we go join her for lunch?”

Brian agreed, and he left the shed, while his father stayed behind to cover the clock back up. On the way back up to the house, Brian noticed a lump laying on the ground. Upon further inspection he saw it was a bird’s nest. It looked as if it had fallen out of the tree. With a nearby tree branch, Brian turned over the nest to see the eggs all smashed. Ants and other insects were crawling in and out of the shells. It was enough to make Brian tear up. He gently placed the nest back down and abandoned the stick. He then made his way back up to his parents’ house, feeling sadder than before.

* * *

When Brian arrived back at his and Chrissie’s flat, he was surprised to find Chrissie’s car there, but upon entering the flat it was dark and silent.

“Chrissie?” Brian called out.

“I’m in here,” Chrissie answered back from inside the kitchen.

Brian stopped suddenly; he knew that tone. It was calm, but there was a certain edge to it. Brian knew before even taking another step, that he and Chrissie were going to get into a fight. However, Brian couldn’t have prepared himself for what he was about to walk in on, but when he entered the kitchen, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Chrissie sat at the kitchen table very still. The only thing in front of her were a pile of magazines.

Brian swallowed the lump in his throat, “What’s going on?”

Chrissie eyed him, as if to ask him if he were being serious. It was obvious what Chrissie had laid out on the table, and it was obvious that Brian knew what they were.

Brian knew he’d been caught, and there was no way out of this. He knew they were going to fight, and it was going to be a big one. However, instead of trying to explain himself, Brian stood there frozen. He had no idea what to say. He knew nothing he’d have to say at this point would ease Chrissie’s hurt feeling in any way. So, he stayed silent.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Chrissie shook her head, eyes beginning to water as she spoke in a soft raspy voice, “Are you even going to explain yourself? Do you even care?”

“I,” Brian cleared his throat, “How did you find them?”

“Why did you have them in the first place?”

Brian looked away, “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered. There were no exaggerations in that sentence. Brian knew Chrissie would never understand. How could she?

“Jesus, Brian,” Chrissie was exasperated at this point, “I know guys have needs, I get that, but did you really have to hide these under our bed?”

“Look, I bought them. I knew you’d get upset about them so I hid them. What’s the big deal?”

Chrissie’s face scrunched up in anger, “The big deal is that you needed to resort to photoshopped pictures of women in the first place, instead of coming and talking to me. I know something’s been bothering you, and it’s affecting our sex life. I thought maybe, that maybe it might have been…” she trailed off.

Brian’s breath caught in his throat, “That maybe it might be what?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Clearly, I was wrong. Apparently, the only thing you get off to, are women with huge tits and small waists,” she spat, picking up one of the magazines and throwing it at Brian. There wasn’t much force behind it, so it fell at his feet.

Brian carefully picked it up, staring at the picture on the front cover. He felt bile rise in his throat, as he thought about how meaningless it all meant to him. If only Chrissie knew that he hadn’t gotten any pleasure at all from these magazines. He wished he had, oh how he prayed it to be true, but his prayers were never answered. After his night at the pub, something changed within him. Roger changed something within him, and he knew that his feelings for the blond were more than friendship. However, he couldn’t tell whether his attraction to Roger was based on anything genuine, or if Brian’s feelings were fleeting. Hell, Brian didn’t even know if his attraction towards men would be something that stayed with him forever. It was all very confusing, and it hurt Brian even more to know he was dragging Chrissie into a situation she never asked to be a part of.

In that moment, he glanced over at Chrissie, who now had her head down. He cleared his throat, “Do you want me throw these out?”

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

Brian felt a tightening in his chest, as anger swept over him, “Well, obviously that isn’t true. You seem to be quite upset over a couple of pictures.”

Suddenly, Chrissie slammed her hands on the table, “A couple of pictures?!” She the glared up at Brian, “Is that what you think this is? Me just getting hysterical over a couple of pictures?!”

Brian was startled by Chrissie’s outburst. He didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t that it? She was upset about the magazines. What else could it be?

“Brian, there has been something seriously wrong going on between us for the past few months. You avoid me all the time, you won’t have sex with me anymore, I find this,” she then points to the pile of magazines on the table, “hidden under our bed. Why did you even feel the need to hide it from me? Am I really that disgusting to look at, that you have to have these models ready for you at your disposal?!”

“What? No! It isn’t like that!”

“Then what is it, Brian?! Why can’t you just tell me the truth?”

The truth. Brian didn’t even know what that was. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” his voice was defeated, and the next words that came out of his mouth were almost pleading, “Please tell me what you want me to say. I don’t know what you want from me.”

Chrissie was silent for a moment, but then let out a heavy sigh, “Just tell me the truth, Brian. Are you cheating on me?”

Brian was taken aback, and he immediately thought of Roger, but other than that drunken night, he’d been completely faithful to Chrissie, “What?”

She was crying now, no, she was sobbing, “You are, aren’t you? Is it Anita? Have two been sleeping together behind my back?!”

“No! Why would you even ask that?”

“It’s true isn’t it?!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“That’s who you were with at the ball wasn’t it? I know you went without me!”

“Yeah, because I wanted to, and then you just bailed on me!”

“I was working, Brian! Something you really wouldn’t know anything about.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“All you do is dedicate yourself to the band. Honestly, Brian, when are you going to grow up?”

“First off, don’t tell me to grow up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t even pay rent here.”

“Neither do you! Your dad owns the flat and pays the rent for you!” Brian pointed out, “Also, for your information, I didn’t go to the ball with Anita. She had a date.”

“Oh, so you just expect me to believe you went by yourself?”

“I didn’t, I went with Roger.”

This caused Chrissie to stop in her tracks, “Roger?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to go alone, and we went together.”

This seemed to make Chrissie calm down, “So, you didn’t take another girl?”

“No,” Brian assured, but guilt gnawed at him anyway. It was true, he hadn’t taken another girl, but that didn’t mean anything to Brian. He had danced with Roger that night, he’d had a genuine connection with him, and he was certain if Anita hadn’t interrupted them, they would have kissed. They would have _kissed_. Brian still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Chrissie still stared at him with red rimmed eyes, “I wanted to go with you.”

Brian looked down, focusing on the floor, “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kind of, yeah. Lately, it’s been all about what you want to do. I feel like you’ve been pushing me every which way,” he looked up to see anger in her eyes. Brian wasn’t surprised.

“What are you even talking about?”

Something changed then. It was as if a string had just snapped in Brian’s brain. All of the anger, and resentment that had been boiling inside of him resurfaced, and he had no one to take it out on, but Chrissie, “What am I talking about? Did you seriously just ask me that?” Brian’s voice was low and dangerous, “You are the most controlling person on the planet. You throw a fit every time something isn’t exactly how you want it. I have bent over backwards to do everything for you. I moved out of my flat with Tim, so we could live together. I dress up for your little family dinners and play nice with your parents when I’d rather be doing anything else. I go wherever you want me to go, I do whatever you want me to do. I’m fucking sick of it! I am always there for you, and the one time I needed you there for me you weren’t there. You forgot! How selfish can you be!?”

Chrissie, who’d begun crying again, hugged herself, “So, that’s how you really feel huh? Then why are you even here? If I’m really so horrible why don’t you just leave?!”

Brian winced, and tried calming down. He gently reached out, “Chrissie, look,” he sighed.

Chrissie recoiled, “Don’t fucking touch me! Get out of my flat, Brian!”

“What?”

“I need some time to think.”

Brian stood there in shock for a moment, but then he snapped out of it, “Fine,” he barked, and then turned on his heels. He walked right out of the flat, slamming the door before leaving.

It wasn’t that long of a drive to Freddie’s flat. Brian kept a tight grip on the steering wheel as he forced himself to empty his mind. He tried hard to focus on the road, but his mind kept flashing back to his and Chrissie’s fight. He didn’t want to remember, but it kept playing over and over in his head like it was stuck on a loop. Brian wanted to scream, he wanted to pull his car over and fucking scream until his vocal cords burned and ached to where he’d lose his voice. He wanted to scream, but he kept still, he kept driving. He tried to calm himself down in his head. He tried to rationalize with himself, saying that everything would be fine once he got to Fred’s. They’d talk it out together.

When Brian arrived at Freddie’s, he went straight into the building, not even stopping for a moment. He stomped up the stairs with no intentions on slowing down. When he arrived at the front door, Brian skipped knocking and just let himself in. It was an unspoken rule between him and Freddie, that if they were hurting, or had gossip that was too good to say over the phone, they could come into each other’s places unannounced. What Brian wasn’t expecting, however, was Freddie not even being home. Well, Brian didn’t think he was home. Freddie’s jacket was gone, and the lights were out.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, even more furious that he wasted a trip, and now he didn’t even know where to go. He wondered if it would be ok if he stayed here until someone got back. He pulled his phone out to text Freddie, but then he paused, sighed, and put his phone back into his pocket. “forget it.”

Brian turned on his heel, but nearly screamed when he was faced with Roger standing in the doorway.

Roger, who had a takeout box in his hand, just smiled and said, “Stay back, delinquent. I have a pair of chopsticks in here, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I live here,” Roger gave him a strange look, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” Brian shifted nervously, “Is Freddie with you?”

“No. Freddie and John are at Freddie’s parents’ house for a family dinner. So, I thought I’d have a little family dinner,” he raised his box a bit for emphasis, “Just me, the rats that live behind my wall, and the Jane Fonda poster I taped to the ceiling above my bed.”

Brian chose to ignore that last part. He sighed, “Oh, all right.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I just needed to talk to him about something. It really isn’t anything. I’m sorry for barging in,” Brian said, as he started to leave. He stopped short, however, when Roger gently grabbed Brian’s arm.

“Obviously it’s not. You drove all the way over here. I know I’m not Freddie, but if you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here all night.”

“It’s stupid anyway. Chrissie and I got into a fight again. I think I really messed up this time.”

“That isn’t stupid. Brian, guys can talk about relationship problems too. It doesn’t make you weak, and it definitely isn’t stupid.”

“I don’t know.”

Roger rolled his eyes, “C’mon Inside where it’s warm, this building is bloody freezing. I was just about to make tea.”

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

“I was also about to watch a movie, A Clockwork Orange. Have you heard of it?”

Brian smiled for the first time since his and Chrissie’s fight, “Yes, I have. I love that movie, actually.”

Roger gave him a sly smile, “I thought you might.”

Brian let Roger pull him into the flat. He took his jacket off and laid it on the back of the couch. He then made his way over to the table and sat down with a thump. He groaned and buried his head in the crook of his elbow. He felt Roger give him a sympathetic pat on the back.

“There, there, mate. Want some tea?”

Brian grumble, “Yes, please.” Brian waited a few moments before lifting his head to see Roger at the stove, whistling while he boiled the water. He watched Roger carefully. His eyes traveled over the back of his shoulders, to his back, and then down to his ass. Brian then blushed and looked away. He felt ashamed.

“So, I guess Freddie’s having a lot harder time finding us gigs,” Roger said, still facing the stove.

Brian, who was still looking down at his fingers, said, “Hmm, oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I guess you know who, told a bunch of venues not to let us play there, or something to that effect.”

Brian rolled his eyes, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“It’s all my fault.”

Brian glanced up suddenly to see Roger had turned around. He was staring straight at Brian, a miserable look on his face. Brian stared back at him. For a split second, he wanted to remind Roger that it was kind of true, but then he remembered how manipulative the pub manager was, and that Roger was only trying to help the only way he knew how, and then Brian felt guilty.

Brian leaned back into his chair, and he studied Roger. He could tell Roger was still beating himself up over that whole ordeal. Brian sighed, “Rog, you know that isn’t true. That manager, what was his name?”

“Ray Foster.”

“Yeah, fuck him. You shouldn’t have done what you did, but that prick shouldn’t have exploited you like that.”

Roger just shrugged in response.

“Look, we’ll find work soon. He might have slowed us down, and it might be a little more difficult now, but it will only make us stronger in the end. We’ll only become a better band because of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Trust me, it will take a lot more than one greasy incel to knock us down. Things will bounce back. I promise.”

Roger gave Brian a small smile, “Thanks, Bri,” he said, just as the timer on the stove started to buzz, “Tea’s done.”

Brian watched as Roger prepared two cups, one for the each of them. He muttered a soft, “Thank you,” when Roger set Brian’s cup down in front of him.

Roger sat in the chair across from Brian, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

Roger rolled his eyes, “Your fight with Chrissie.”

Brian shook his head, “I don’t know where to start.”

“Uh, the beginning?”

“Right,” Brian’s face heated up with embarrassment, “Well, I guess it started when I bought those magazines.”

“Magazines?”

“Yeah, well, you know I’ve been having, uh, performance issues with Chrissie. I thought at first that maybe it might just be her. So, I tried about every other medium first, “Like porn, or erotic novels, but my focus would just keep going to the guy, and solo videos and lesbian porn weren’t working for me. So, I went back to the same place I got those erotic novels from and bought some playboys and other types of porn mags,” Brian laughed, “I don’t know why. It was like I was expecting a different result. Like I would see a picture, and then boom, I like tits again. I mean, I was never crazy about sex, like the other boys in my class, but at least my dick still worked. Anyway, I hid them under my bed, and Chrissie found them.”

Roger, who had been listening carefully, nodded, “Guessing she wasn’t too thrilled?”

“She thought I did it because I wasn’t attracted to her.”

“I mean, that’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well, not in the way she thought. So, then we started fighting about everything. She was pissed that I went to the ball without her.”

“Was she upset that I went with you.”

“No, just that I didn’t go with her.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, it got to be too much, so I left. I wanted to see Freddie, but he wasn’t here, obviously.”

Roger nodded and took a sip of his tea. He watched Brian carefully.

Brian stared down at his hands. He knew Roger was watching him. He knew that Roger knew that Brian wanted to say more. Brian did want to say more, but he didn’t know how to phrase it. He stayed like that for a while, just thinking and not saying a word. Roger didn’t push him to talk, for which Brian was grateful. The silence wasn’t awkward, because Brian knew Roger would wait patiently for him to talk, and he wouldn’t press Brian for the whole story. He sighed, “I just don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“What to do. What I am. What to do about what I am, or what to do about Chrissie. I wouldn’t know what to do if she found out. Found out that…” Brian trailed off, and he looked back up at Roger.

Roger was still staring deep into his eyes; his face was stoic. He reached for Brian’s hands grabbing them gently. He spoke as he held Brian’s hands in his. His voice was soft, but it was steady and assured, “That you’re gay.” It wasn’t a question.

Brian could feel his hands start to tremble in Roger’s, “I don’t know. I’m so confused, Roger. I wish I knew. It’s like my mind and my heart are playing tug of war, and I’m the rope. I-”

“Brian,” Roger interrupted, “It’s all right. I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t try to push labels on you. Especially since you’re trying to figure it out yourself.”

“Well, how did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That you were… y’know.”

“That I was bi?”

Brian nodded his head.

“I don’t know. I guess when I was about seventeen. It was confusing for me too at first. At that time, I was doing a bunch of shit that would piss my parents off, especially my father. I messed around with a few guys that were a bit older than me, and at first, I didn’t think it meant anything. I thought that I was just doing it to piss off my old man, but as time went on, I started figuring out that I really had an attraction to men. It wasn’t just sexual. I could see myself being with another man, like dating and stuff. I then realized that If I was ever going to be myself, I had to take my father out of the equation. I had to stop doing things out of spite but start doing things because I genuinely enjoyed them. I had to let go of my anger, so I could find happiness.

“And, have you found that yet?”

Roger was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I know what that feels like.”

Brian pondered on what Roger had said. The fact that Roger didn’t realize who he was, because he thought he was just doing it to get back at his father. He wondered if that was a conclusion Roger made on his own, or if someone had told him that. Either way, Brian could feel empathy for Roger. There were a lot of things Brian did, just because he thought that was what was expected of him. He thought of him and Roger on two sides of the same coin. Roger doing what wasn’t expected of him out of rebellion, and Brian doing what was, because it was easy. What made them the same was that neither of them was doing it for themselves.

“Brian, you all right?”

Brian looked up, and he smiled weakly, “Yeah. You just gave me a lot to think about.”

“Well, I hope I was at least a little bit helpful.”

Brian smiled, “You were, Roger, thank you.”

“Anytime. So, Wanna watch the movie now?”

Brian’s face lit up, “Yeah.”

They borrowed John’s laptop to watch the movie. Well, borrowed might not be the correct word. Roger took it out of the computer case and said, “He’ll get over it.” Of course, they had to know the password to get in, which Roger knew as well.

“How did you find out the password to his laptop?” Brian asked incredulously, as he sat down on the couch.

Roger rolled his eyes, “Freddie told me. His password is ‘John Mercury’.”

Brian made a face, and then laughed, “That is quite possibly the cringiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Roger shrugged, “The kid’s twenty-one and in love. Give him a break.”

“I like how you say ‘kid’, as if you yourself aren’t only two years older than him.”

“Hey, I’ve been through the ropes,” he said bending over to hook up John’s laptop to the HDMI cord connected to the television, he then stood back up to face Brian, “Freddie is his first big relationship.”

“And his first love.”

“You think they’re in love?”

“Don’t you?”

Roger stood there a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something, but instead he just shrugged and went to turn out the lights.

This made Brian want to press further but he decided to leave it alone. It wasn’t any good to make Roger do something he didn’t want to do or talk about something he didn’t want to talk about.

When Roger returned, he sat next to Brian and used John’s wireless mouse to start the film. As the film went on Brian noticed Roger getting sleepier, and by the time the movie had gotten to the scene where Alex had found himself trapped inside the writer’s home, being drugged by his spaghetti, Roger was already asleep. He had cuddled up to Brian, resting his head on Brian’s chest.

Brian didn’t mind too much, but it was causing a bit of a distraction. However, he tried to focus of the film. It was at the climax of the movie, where Alex attempts to kill himself by jumping out of the window. Brian couldn’t help but cringe when he saw the camera angle spiraling towards the ground. He’d seen this movie time and time again, and never batted an eye. This time, however, was different. When the scene ended, he couldn’t help thinking about the bird eggs that fell from the tree in his parents’ yard. He imagined that this would have been what it probably felt like. He then imagined how awful it must have been. The feeling of total security, and then suddenly feeling yourself falling, but being trapped in a cage, so you couldn’t save yourself. No one there to help you, as you crash onto the ground. It made Brian shiver just thinking about it.

Suddenly, Brian heard a clicking sound. It was coming from the door. He watched as the doorknob slowly turned and the door quietly being pushed open.

Freddie walked in, wearing his nice fall jacket, and a scarf. He silently creeped into the flat but stopped when he saw Roger asleep on the couch, next to Brian, who was staring up at him. Freddie gave Brian a tired smile.

Brian smiled back, gently maneuvering himself out of Roger’s grasp. He walked over to where Freddie was setting his wallet and scarf on the kitchen counter, “Hey,” he said softly, so he wouldn’t wake Roger.

“Hey,” Freddie said, “Movie night without me?”

“I came here to talk to you, but you weren’t here. Roger suggested we watch a movie.”

Freddie looked over at the tv to see what they were watching, and then rolled his eyes, “Of course. Anyway, you said you wanted to talk to me?”

Brian nodded, “Chrissie, and I got into a fight, a big one. It might be our last one.”

Freddie gave Brian a sad smile, “I’m sorry, Brian.”

Brian shrugged, “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better. John and I aren’t doing so well either.”

“What?” Brian said, looking at Freddie. He examined the older boy intently, realizing that there was something off about Freddie’s behavior. Brian felt like kicking himself for not noticing before.

Freddie shook his head, laughing softly, but he soon brought his hand up to wipe a few stray tears that had fallen onto his cheek. “It happens,” Freddie muttered, “I was foolish to think that maybe we could- That I could be- I don’t know.”

“Have you guys broken up?”

“No, nothing like that. We’ve just been fighting a lot, and sometimes it’s more than I can bare.”

“Well, all couples fight.”

“I suppose,” Freddie murmured, “If we do break up, I don’t know how it will affect the band.”

“John’s still our bass player, even if he isn’t with you.”

“What if he doesn’t want to be.”

“Then we’d figure something out.”

Freddie nodded to himself, staying quiet for a moment, but then he soon spoke up again, “So, Chrissie’s pissed again? What was the fight about this time?”

“She found some pornography under my bed.”

Freddie raised a brow, “Oh?”

“It was stupid, and I should have never done it.”

“Why’d you do it in the first place? I mean every man has their fantasy, but I thought you adored Chrissie, despite all the times you two fought. I genuinely thought you were attracted to her, dear.”

“I was. I mean, I am, but-”

“But what, Brian?”

Brian felt his hands start to shake. He wanted to tell Freddie everything that’s been happening, but he just couldn’t. It surprised him, because he thought he could tell Freddie everything, “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit it’s nothing. Brian, you know you can talk to me about anything.”

Brian knew he was right. He stared at Freddie, and Freddie stared back. Brian sighed with a shaky breath. It was just like ripping off a band-aid, he just needed to get it over with, “Freddie, I- I think I might-”

“Hey, Fred, when did you get back?” Roger mumbled sleepily. He must have just woken up.

“I just got back.”

Roger rubbed his eyes, and then stared at the screen. The credits were rolling. “Aw, I missed the ending?”

“Yeah,” Brian said, happy for the interruption.

“The ending is the best part.”

“What, the fact that evil wins?”

“No, I mean the part where he fucks a girl in the snow while people stand around him clapping,” Roger sighs dreamily, “I wish that were me.”

“You’d get very cold,” Brian pointed out.

“So?”

“Your dick would freeze off,” Freddie said.

Roger stretched, and then yawned out, “I’d let it.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and then looked over at Brian, “Anyway, what were you saying, Brian?”

“Actually, I think I should get going. I’m going to try and smooth things over with Chrissie,” Brian said, grabbing for his coat. He wanted to smack himself for chickening out at the last second, but Brian couldn’t tell Freddie, not yet. He didn’t even know what it was that he should tell him. Was he questioning? Maybe he was bisexual. Or maybe he was gay. Brian didn’t know, and he didn’t want to waste Freddie’s time by trying to explain himself.

Freddie eyed him suspiciously, “Well, all right. Are you sure?”

“I should at least go and apologize to her.”

Freddie nodded, but he didn’t look too pleased, “Drive safe, Brian.”

“I will.”

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bye, Bri,” Roger said, as he got up to turn off the tv.

“Bye, Roger,” he said, and then hugged Freddie goodbye. After that he walked out, stuck his hands in his pockets, and slipped out into the cold November night.

* * *

At the next band practice, Brian was a little on edge. It had been three days since his big fight with Chrissie, and surprise, she accepted Brian back with open arms. It shouldn’t upset Brian that Chrissie was such a forgiving person, but sometimes he wished that she would just end it and break up with him. However, that wasn’t the only thing bothering him. Freddie had called for an emergency band meeting, and it was causing Brian to become uneasy.

When Freddie finally showed up, Brian felt as if he were about to jump right out of his skin.

“Hello, lovies,” he sang out, setting his stuff down, and then walking over to John to give him a kiss.

“Hey, Fred, what’s this all about?” Brian said. He knew it might have been rude to start with that, but he was feeling antsy.

“Pardon?”

“You sent us a text that just said, ‘emergency band meeting’.”

“Yeah, Freddie, why’d you need to talk to us?” Roger questioned, setting his biology textbook down.

“Well,” Freddie said, folding his arms over his chest, “I got an email from a pub manager. He wants us to do a gig, a full one.”

“That’s amazing, Freddie,” Brian sighed in relief, “We should be celebrating.”

Freddie, however, did not share the same look of excitement on his face as the rest of his bandmates.

 He looked over at Roger, “The pub manager who sent me the invite is from Truro.”

“What?” Roger looked taken aback, “From Truro? Who sent the email?”

“He said his name was Reginald?”

Brian watched recognition pass over Roger’s face. “Roger?” He said, putting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything after that. He knew Roger had gotten into trouble in Truro, and he knew Roger didn’t like to talk about it.

Roger flinched, and then looked back at Brian. His face was clouded with confusion and concern.

“Your old town? Why are people contacting us from there?” John folds his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed that everyone knew something he didn’t.

“I don’t know. I got into some trouble before I left, and now there’s bad blood between me and a lot of the people who live there. It’s a small town and people love to talk. I’m sure there are a good amount of people who don’t think too highly of me. That guy who emailed you, Freddie, is the manager of a local pub. My old band and I used to play there all the time. What I don’t understand, is why he’s contacting me now? I don’t even know how he knew I was with another band.”

Brian furrowed his brow, “So, this guy is a friend?”

Roger shook his head slightly, “He wasn’t anything. He was a pretty nice bloke most of the time, but I wouldn’t say we were friends. He was just a nice guy, and he’d let us play in his pub. That’s it,” Roger looked over at Freddie, “Let me see the email he sent you.”

Freddie pulled out his phone, and then started to scroll through his emails. He then handed his phone to Roger.

Roger skimmed the email.

John leaned over to look at Freddie’s phone, “Well, what does it say?”

“He said that he was in London the night of our last gig and saw us play.”

“He said that he was happy to see Roger getting along so well, and that our group had talent. He invited us to come play for him,” Freddie explained, while Roger continued to read the rest in silence.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. He still offered us a gig,” John said.

“Well, we won’t take it,” Freddie said, and locked eyes with Roger, who had now finished reading the email, “We won’t go if you’re uncomfortable, dear.”

Roger was quiet now, looking as if he were weighing his options. He stayed like that for a while until he finally spoke, “I- I think we should go.”

“Roger,” Freddie began, but Roger shook his head.

“It’s my fault we’re not getting booked for gigs. I shouldn’t let my personal issues interfere with the band.”

“But your feelings are important to us, Roger,” Brian said.

“Also, it isn’t your fault we’re not getting gigs. You know that,” Freddie explained.

“Oh, c’mon. John, you understand right?”

John shook his head, “It wouldn’t be fair to you, Roger. If you truly don’t want to go, then you shouldn’t make yourself on our account.”

“It will be fine. We’ll go do the gig, and then we’ll leave. I already screwed up once. Please, let me make this up to you. I’m telling you that I want to go. So, text Reggie back and tell him we’ll do the gig.”

Freddie stared back at Roger with an apprehensive look, but then sighed, “All right. If this is what you want.”

“It is.”

“All right,” he said, taking his phone back from Roger, “I guess we have a gig in Truro.”


End file.
